


The Temptress

by that_jeep_girl



Category: August Diehl - Fandom, Christoph Waltz - Fandom, Dieter Hellstrom - Fandom, Hans Landa - Fandom, Inglourious Basterds (2009)
Genre: 420, Adolf Hitler - Freeform, Europe, Exotic Dancer, F/M, Fluff, France - Freeform, Germany, Gestapo, Love Triangle, Mistress, Nazi Germany, Nazi occupied France, Nazis, Paris (City), Romance, Secrets, Sexual Tension, Smoking, Smut, Stripper, Third Reich, WW2, WWII, War, World War 2, World War II, World War Two, exotic dancing, relationship, romantic, strip club, the third reich
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2021-02-20
Packaged: 2021-03-02 01:39:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 42,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23717569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/that_jeep_girl/pseuds/that_jeep_girl
Summary: There may not be love for a girl selling lust, but Hans Landa kept coming back for what a young, beautiful, American woman had for sale. Although he did not place full trust in her, his feelings develop into something unexpected.**Warning: This story will include strong language, sexual content, marijuana usage, and brief violence.(I do not in any way shape or form own the character Colonel Hans Landa, Major Dieter Hellstrom, or any other references to Inglourious Basterds.)
Relationships: Dieter Hellstrom/Original Character(s), Hans Landa/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 17
Kudos: 27





	1. Seduction

Three days, and no leads. Who would have thought that finding a specific SS officer in a sea of other SS officers would be so challenging?  
*  
Adopted Krista Washburn was born June 19th, 1992, in Chicago, Illinois. 2009 rolled around, and she graduated high school early, to enlist in the United States Marine Corps immediately after. After serving out her full eight year contract, she left the military life in search of something she had wanted to track down for quite some time. Her birth family. It wasn’t until toward the tail end of 2018 when she uncovered a lead on her birth mother’s father, AKA, her grandfather. She had reached out to him shortly after, asking permission to meet. He was more than happy to meet with her. She visited his family farmhouse in New Berlin, Wisconsin a week following their correspondence. She had learned that he had served in the Wehrmacht during World War II, and had emigrated from Germany following the war, and she found that fascinating.

“We never forgave your mother for giving you up.” Krista recalled him telling her, his voice thick with a South German accent. “Once you were born, we never saw her again,” he added sadly. Apparently, her birth mother had at least named her (Krista) before leaving the picture, never to be heard from again.

With Krista’s birth mother being disowned from the family, she found herself the sole recipient of everything placed in her grandfather’s will. She inherited the house as well as three million dollars. Most of that money was tucked away safely in her bank, only to be used in a dire emergency.

When she finally moved into the house, she was putting away some things up in the dusty attic above the garage, and discovered a ratty box tucked away in a corner. Curiosity struck her immediately when she noticed no label on said box. Inside, she found a multitude of things she hadn’t expected. Her grandfather’s uniform and medals from the war, his brother’s uniform and medals, as well as another small box labeled ‘Jonas’. Who was this Jonas guy?

She opened the box, and found a few medals accompanied with a picture of a young SS officer wearing them. Aside from those few items, it was empty. Krista sat cross legged on the floor, eyeing the photograph. On the back was simply ‘Jonas Fischer, SS 1942’.

That had sparked her curiosity further, and as a result, she began to dig into her family’s history more deeply. She had discovered that her grandmother had been born in a small village south of Vienna, and her grandfather in Munich. They married young, and had one child together; her birth mother. She tried her best to do the math in her head to figure out just how old her mother would have been when she had given birth, but it made her brain hurt, so she gave up. That wasn’t what she really cared about anyway. Jonas was what she was interested in.

Upon further research, she had discovered that this Jonas character was her great uncle’s son, which made him her cousin. Was really struck her as odd is the fact that there was nothing in the small box from him but a few medals and a picture. Why was that? Did it mean that he was involved in a dark part of the Third Reich, and her family wanted it to remain hidden?

A month or so following the discovery of the World War II militaria in her attic, she had tripped over an exposed tree root, and went sailing through the large oak tree in the back yard that the root belonged to. Astonished, she revealed that she had wound up in a time period much unlike her own. She wasn’t even in the same city. Turning around, she saw that she had come through a brick wall in a train station in what she could only assume was Paris. The people around her stared and gave her menacing looks, mumbling in French. Feeling slightly terrified, she quickly made her way back through the brick wall, and found herself back on her property. “That was like fucking Harry Potter,” she mumbled to herself as her eyebrows knitted together in confusion.

It took twenty seven year old Krista all of two days to decide that she was going to tempt fate and go back through the tree again, with the goal of finding her cousin. Repercussions of meddling with the past be damned, she was going to find the man come hell or high water, even if she had to do it all on her own.  
With a small vintage suitcase packed full of anything she might need (Including a sleek Kimber Custom Lightweight pistol, because ya never know), she set off for the tree once more, the photo of her cousin grasped in her hand tightly. She took a deep breath, and took a handful of confident steps forward until she found herself in the same location as she did by accident two days prior.

Outside the train station, her hunch had been confirmed. Paris, France. She was on the right track at least.

She wandered the streets, suitcase in hand. Lifting up her jacket sleeve, she noticed the time brightly displayed on her Apple Watch. 20:43. With a strict nine PM curfew put in place, she knew that she needed to find somewhere to stay quickly. She tucked it away hastily, and continued to walk at a more brisk pace.

Eventually, she stumbled upon a rundown motel, but realized she didn’t have any money to pay for a room. She forced herself to cry thus ruining her eye makeup, and made her way inside.

An elderly woman sat behind a tall wooden counter, and crossed over to the shaking, weeping Krista. “My dear, are you alright?” she questioned in beautiful French. Suddenly she was thankful that she had learned French and German, as she would clearly need both languages while here.

“My… My parents were both killed by the Germans… And their house was burned down,” she explained through fake tears and sobs. “I haven’t anywhere to stay, and I haven’t any money.”  
At that point she realized this situation could shake out in one of two ways; either the woman would feel sympathetic for her, or she would alert the authorities, and Krista would be fucked. “I’m terribly sorry to hear that, my dear…” The woman hugged her tightly, rubbing her back with soothing circular motions. Krista sniffled and rubbed her eyes. “We have a vacancy. Stay as long as you need.” She handed Krista a key with a tag that read ‘14’ and gave her another tight hug.

“Thank you so much ma’am,” she said, trying her best to force a smile. She found her way to room 14, and shrugged off her jacket onto the bed. She smiled to herself, honestly surprised that woman didn’t ask to see her papers, which she clearly didn’t have. ‘I should probably get some made up’, she thought to herself.

The room was shabby, but it would do. It kept her off the streets, and out of a brothel. She began to unpack her clothes, and grabbed her phone out from between a grey sweater and a black skirt and stared at it for a moment in disbelief. “What the hell?” In the top left corner, the display was reading full signal on LTE. How was that even possible? It made absolutely no sense, but she wasn’t complaining.

To test it, she sent a quick text to her sister. ‘Dude, I’m in Paris.’

Her sister Sydney quickly replied, and it came through without a hitch. ‘What?! No way!’

*

March 9th 1943; Tuesday

As we now have circled back to the very beginning of this story, three days had passed by now, and Krista had found herself doing minimal research on Jonas. She wanted to really live in the moment and take in her surroundings with mental photographs.

She had found herself stooping to the level of asking random German soldiers she ran into on the street if they knew the man in the picture as if she were trying to hunt down a lost dog or something. It made her feel stupid and desperate.

Exhausted and craving whiskey, she plopped down into a bar stool at the closest bar she could find, and ordered a drink, hoping that a kind man would be generous enough to pay for it for her. With her glowing blonde hair, and ruby red lips, she thought that maybe some guy would be like, ‘damn she’s pretty. Imma buy her a drink.’ She stared down at the tattered photograph she had been carrying, and picked at the corner while she patiently waited for her drink.

The bartender sat a glass of whiskey before her, and she took a slow sip. In her peripherals, she noticed a very handsome man approach her. “Is this seat taken?” he questioned in French with a dazzling smile. She slid the photograph off the counter and tucked it beneath her thigh. Out of sight, out of mind.

She looked over to him and shook her head. He claimed the seat beside her, and she prayed that he wasn’t going to try some cheesy ass pickup line on her. She had become immune to them anyway.

Krista looked over to him when she was sure he wasn’t watching, and allowed her eyes to take in everything about the man. It didn’t take her long to deduct that he was an SS colonel, and suddenly a wave of nervousness hit her like a ton of bricks. She hadn’t any papers… This could be a one way ticket to her last day on earth.

She had to admit. This guy was very attractive; an older man, yes, but attractive nonetheless. The way he sat with such perfect posture gave her the impression that this man meant business, and was not to be fucked with. “I’m Krista, by the way. Krista Jäger,” she told him in English, too lazy to even try a fake accent, even though she put in the effort to make up a last name.

He turned to her, and tilted his head. An American with a German name? “You’re American?” he asked, his smile fading into something she wasn’t quite a fan of.

She figured that was a wrap, and that she was about to be hauled out to the back alley and shot. How could she have been so stupid to not even try to continue speaking in French? She laughed breathily before raising her glass to her lips and taking another sip. “Yeah,” she answered hesitantly.

“May I ask what brings you to Paris?” he inquired, his eyes now glued to her.

She had to decide whether or not she wanted tell the whole truth, or just parts of it. “You’ll laugh,” she said, turning to face the colonel.

He shook his head. “I won’t laugh,” he assured, turning in the stool, his full attention on her now.

She took a deep breath, turning back to her half empty glass. Her index finger skated around the rim as she began to explain. “I was adopted when I was born, and I’m in search of my birth family.” A breathy chuckle escaped her lips. “It sounds pretty dumb when I say it out loud. People keep telling me that I’ll never find them and that I’m wasting my time.” She looked over to him once more, and took note of his striking hazel eyes and dark sandy blonde hair littered with small sections of grey. He was… kinda sexy. Was that wrong? Was she wrong to think that an SS colonel was sexy?

“Do you think it’s a waste of time?”

She shrugged after draining what remained in her glass. “Realistically speaking… I’m not sure yet. I didn’t realize how time consuming it would be.”

He nodded. “I’m sure you’ll find them.” He offered her a kind smile. He had a sort of arrogant air to him, but he seemed nice enough. “Care for another?” he asked, pointing to her   
empty glass.

“Sure,” she accepted with a smile.

For a moment, the simply fell into each other’s gazes. She looked away quickly, her cheeks shifting to a deep shade of scarlet. “I’m sorry… I don’t mean to stare,” she forced out.  
He didn’t seem to mind the least. “Don’t apologize. I was just admiring how beautiful you are.”

Oh great. He was kind of sexy, and also a charmer. ‘Don’t fall into the trap, Krista. Don’t do it’ she told herself, but it was so damn hard. “Danke, Standartenführer,” she replied.  
He smiled then. “Sprichst du Deutsch?”

“Ja,” she answered. Even the way he spoke German was sexy. What was he doing to her?

“You seem like a very intelligent young woman,” he mentioned before raising his glass to her fresh one. “Prost,” he said as their glasses clinked together.

“Prost,” she said as well. 

Following a short moment they remained silent before he finally spoke up. “Where are you from, Krista?” he asked curiously.

“Chicago,” she answered simply, not at all too eager to spill out everything about her life to some SS officer that she didn’t even know.

“I’ve never been to America,” he admitted. “I’d like to visit though.”

She nodded, smiling politely. “I like it there,” she said, allowing herself to catch his eyes again. The eye contact should be making her skin crawl, but it was doing the opposite. It had almost an exhilarating effect on her. She was actually beginning to enjoy herself.

“Did you leave your husband behind when you came here?” he asked, an almost devilish tone coloring his accented voice. It almost was like he was actually trying to pick her up.

She laughed, flashing her left hand. “I’m not married.”

“I would have thought for sure that a woman as beautiful and as smart as you would be taken.” He leaned back a little and pulled a tin from his tunic pocket as well as a lighter. He pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips. “Any man would be lucky to have you,” he added, lighting his cigarette and taking a long drag from it. 

Krista shrugged again. “I guess I just haven’t found the right person yet,” she answered, moving in her stool to face him fully. “Maybe someday.” She placed her elbow on the counter and rested her head on her hand. “Are you married?” It may have been out of bounds to ask a man of his position a question like that, but by that time, there was no turning back.

“No I’m not,” he responded before taking another drag, and she watched him as if were an art form. “Same as you. I suppose that I just haven’t found the right woman yet.” He smiled at her and pulled a second cigarette from the tin. “Do you smoke?” He questioned, hurriedly changing the subject.

She did smoke, but not tobacco typically. “Sometimes.” He passed the cigarette to her, and lit it for her once it was securely between her lips. “Thank you.” She let the smoke curl elegantly from between her lips and up into her nose in a perfect French inhale. 

Hi eyes never left her as she took long, slow draws, her eyes falling to her full lips coated in a flattering red lipstick from Kat Von D. “Is something wrong?” she asked, noticing that he seemed either in a daze or in a state of longing.

“No, I’m just watching you,” he admitted, a goofy smile tugging at his lips.

It was weird feeling; feeling like one was on display. “Why? I’m not very interesting,” she said, placing the remainder of her burning cigarette in a nearby ashtray.  
“I disagree,” he told her, lowering his voice, his eyes actively seeking out hers.

Her heart began to pound loudly in her ears, and she could feel herself begin to tremble ever so slightly. His fingers brushed over her skin as he tucked a stray lock of long blonde hair behind her ear, and it felt like trails of fire had been placed there. She assumed that this is what lust at first sight felt like. As wrong as it was, she was almost dying to feel his lips on hers.

It was like he could read her mind just by looking into her eyes. He slowly drew her face closer, his hand cupped gently on her cheek. It was almost too fast, but all of her cares had gone like the wind, and she fell into his touch easily.

Finally, he softly brushed his lips over hers, and her eyes instinctively fell closed. His lips were much softer than she had expected, and they tasted of tobacco and whiskey, which she found utterly intoxicating. It became quite obvious very quickly that he knew exactly how to woo the ladies. He was succeeding, and she liked it.

“If you’re going to kiss me, you could at least tell me your name,” she said to him. 

The girl had a point. “Hans Landa. At your service, Fraulein.” He raised her hand to his lips and brushed a polite, gentlemanly kiss over her knuckles.

“Interesting choice of words,” she pointed out, and smirk touching her lips. She finished her second glass of whiskey, and licked her lips to draw what liquid was on them into her mouth. He motioned for the bartender to bring her another. “Are you trying to get me drunk and take advantage of me?” Her eyes flashed devilishly as she gladly accepted the third drink.

“I would never do that,” he assured, matching the look in her eyes.

She’d had her fair share of one night stands, and this was usually how it all began. She could tell that Hans was interested in more than just their single kiss, and she decided to take that and run with it. Krista could see the desire burning in those captivating eyes of his. She glanced up at the clock that hung on the wall and realized that it was nearing curfew. She downed the whiskey like it was a shot, and licked her lips once more. “I think I should go. Wouldn’t want to be out past curfew.”

“I’ll escort you. Don’t worry.”

Krista stood up from her stool and turned to Hans. “I’ll be outside,” she told him simply.

The photo that had been safely tucked away beneath her leg had long been forgotten and had been left behind when she made her exit from the bar. It fluttered to the floor, and it caught Landa’s attention. He scooped it up and eyed it for a moment. He looked out the large window to where Krista was standing, then back to the photo. “Obersturmführer Fischer,” he muttered to himself. Why did she have this picture was the question that popped into his mind before anything else. The young lieutenant was currently under a clandestine investigation which is why this American woman having a photo of him was so peculiar. Hans slipped the photo into his pocket before paying for their drinks and went out to meet the woman he had been drinking with.

If Krista were to admit anything right now to herself, it would be that her fruitless day had shifted into a very interesting evening. She was no seductress, but playing the role of one was making her feel some way that she had never felt before, and she liked it. “Shall we?” he asked, pulling on his leather gloves.

“Of course.” With the sun hidden away for the night and the moon and stars littering the sky, she realized just how chilly the night March air was. A slight breeze blew over her face, and goosebumps covered her arms beneath her sheer black blouse.

Before she knew what was happening, she had been tugged into a dark alley, and backed into a wall. His hands skirted up her legs without hesitation, pushing the hem of her skirt up in the process. “Are you trying to seduce me, Standartenführer?” Krista purred in his ear as the cool air hit her now exposed legs.

“Perhaps,” he answered, his hands curving around to her ass to give it a rough squeeze. Hans seemed like fun; she liked his ways.

Her fingers curled around the lapels of his heavy leather coat and pulled his chest flush into hers. Caught off guard by her advance, Hans let a hand move from her smooth skin to the wall behind her to catch himself. “If you are, it’s working,” she said, pressing her lips into his with a sort of needy desperation that she didn’t know that she was capable of. If this was only for one night, she planned to make the most of it and close her eyes to every last one of her inhibitions.

Their lips moved together with such perfection that it felt nothing short of blissful. It felt as though this was what she had been missing her entire life and she hadn’t realized it. The sensations paired with her slight buzz from the whiskey had married together to form the type of dopamine rush that she smoked marijuana to achieve. “I don’t think this should be done here,” he breathed before nipping at her bottom lip and pulling away. When it came to sexual encounters, Krista considered herself rather adventurous, but being fucked in a dark alley was where she drew the line. It’s not that she was a slut, she just enjoyed sex, and she didn’t find that to be a problem. 

They had reached the halfway point to the motel she was staying in when a group of three men in black Gestapo uniforms bounded toward them. “Standartenführer Landa. I’m terribly sorry to bother you and… This young lady, but there’s been a development in our investigation,” the man leading the small pack said, slightly out of breath. Trying her best to avoid contact, she took in the rank of the man that was speaking. A captain. ‘Don’t fuck with him… Or any of them’, she noted mentally.

She caught the captain eyeing her, and she averted her eyes and looked off into another direction. “Of course,” he replied to the captain with a nod. He turned to Krista then. “I’m terribly sorry, but I must go now. I apologize for not being able to escort you home, but you won’t be bothered for being out past curfew.” Her now slightly inebriated brain tried to quickly translate what he had told her in German, but it was moving to slow for her liking.

She nodded and managed a simple, “okay”.

“I would like to see you again,” he added before he departed with the rest of the group.

Krista watched as the briskly went off in the direction she’d just come from, and noticed one of the officers give Hans a pat on the back. “Really?” she muttered under her breath. Just like fucking high school boys when their friends either get a girlfriend or finally get laid.

With an eye roll, she continued back to her motel room, and flopped down on the bed once inside. Although her alcohol tolerance was very high, the room was just slightly spinning, and that alone was enough to force her to keep her eyes open.

Fatigue and hunger were beginning to set in, but she still had no money to buy food, and it was too late at night for her to make a trip to her trusty train platform to go back home. With a deep sigh, she stood up and crossed to room to where her suitcase sat, and pulled out her phone. She held the lock button to power it on, and patiently waited. Sitting down on the corner of the bed, she peeled off her false eyelashes and blinked a few times to allow her eyes to readjust to their absence. 

Google had never, correction: hardly ever done Krista dirty, so that was the first place she found herself when he phone had finally powered on. 

She had gathered enough small tidbits of information that Hans Landa was an important man here during the occupation. With that being said, she had a tiny scrap of hope that she’d be able to find something about him online somewhere. 

She typed in ‘Hans Landa’ in the search bar, and tapped the first link that came up. The page was adorned with a large picture of him at the very top, and it took her all of about a half of a second to say to herself, ‘that’s him’. She read through the page, and paused for a moment when she reached a subheading that read ‘French Occupation’. For a long moment, she contemplated whether or not she should continue reading. She took a breath and continued.

Once she reached the end of the extensive section, she locked her phone and dropped it on the bed. She wished she hadn’t continued reading. The very last line read. “During the Nazi Party’s occupation of France, Hans Landa had earned himself the moniker of ‘The Jew Hunter’ as a result of his detective abilities.”

At least now she knew what she was getting herself into, but it led her to a question: What if he knows Jonas? This could be her only shot to find him. After reading the article, she wasn’t so sure that Landa was one that she should be actively pursuing. He had been described as ruthless, arrogant, and relentless. Was that really something she wanted to get involved in? Not to mention, with his respected status in the SS, he could easily make her cease to exist with a single order, and no one would ever ask any questions.  
With her mouth slightly open in shock, she absentmindedly looked around the small, dimly lit room at nothing in particular. “Oh god… What have I done?”


	2. Playing the Game

March 16th, 1943; Tuesday

eBay was a wonderful thing.

Krista had managed to track down at least enough money for food and other things for a few weeks. Thankfully she had also had the forethought to stock up on some snacks like Cheez Its and Sour Patch Kids, so when it was three in the morning and she still found herself awake, she had something to quiet the growling of her stomach.

The woman that was always in the lobby of the small motel's name was Dolores, Krista had discovered. In a wholehearted attempt to repay the woman for her hospitality, Krista had tried to hand her money to cover her week's stay. "No, no, no," Dolores had dismissed. "There's no need to pay for your room, my dear. Stay as long as you need." Krista thanked Dolores profusely for her unwavering kindness, and wasn't about to complain about having a free room to stay in. Because, again, it kept her off the streets and out of a brothel.

It was earlier in the day this time when Krista made the decision to venture out into the city, around three in the afternoon. Considering the circumstances of the country, the busy hustle and bustle of the Paris city life was all around her. She'd spent plenty of time in Downtown Chicago, but this was a whole different animal. She was literally walking around in the pages of a history book, and nothing could quite top that feeling.

She stood on a street corner, her eyes moving from the aesthetically pleasing cobblestone street up to the massive iron tower off into the distance. One of these days she wouldn't be so lazy and she walk to it and be one of those American tourists who just wanted to see the Eiffel Tower and do nothing else... Except maybe get shitfaced off of good wine.

The money she had bought on eBay was burning a hole straight through her pocket, and she was simply dying to buy something, even if it was some little trinket she'd regret purchasing on a later occasion.

She stumbled upon a pleasant enough convenience store where they sold a multitude of random items. Different colors of packaging of food and cleaning items greeted her eyes, and she could feel herself smiling softly like an awestruck child.

A small wire rack full of colorful postcards caught Krista's attention, and she wasted no time in looking over them. There were a few with photographs depicting the free flowing city life, one of the Eiffel Tower, a handful of Claude Monet Paintings, and a few showing the rolling hills and expansive landscape of rural France. They were all so appealing to her eyes, she had to narrow it down to two. She settled on Claude Monet's 'Impression, Soleil Levant' and one of a cityscape. Both would look nice framed and situated on a wall in her house as souvenirs.

Krista placed both cards on the glass countertop before the cashier, and pulled her messenger bag up from her side to begin digging for the small coin purse she had tucked away inside. A hand gently pushed down hers and she looked up, startled. "No need, miss." She recognized the man immediately. She made an attempt to open up the small leather coin purse again, and was stopped. "Please. I insist." Hans slid a few coins across the counter, and she picked up the postcards before slipping them into her bag. 

"You didn't need to do that," she told him once they were outside.

"I had been hoping that I would run into you again," he told her, ignoring her statement completely.

She narrowed her eyes playfully, and brushed the hair that had blown across her face away. "And why would that be, Colonel? Did you come to arrest me?" She held her wrists up briefly before letting them fall back down to her sides.

"If you desire an arrest, an arrangement can be made," he answered with a devilish grin.

Judging by how quickly he answered her with a seemingly sexual remark, she could tell that playing a game with this man was going to be the most fun she had had in a long time. "Cuff me," she said, matching his provocative tone. 

Her answer made him smirk. This would definitely be fun. "Later." Hans nodded, and placed a hand at her back as they walked. "I actually was meaning to apologize for the other night. I was quite upset that I had to be pulled from your company."

Of course he was upset. He would have gotten laid, and he knew it. He missed out. "I'd be lying if I said it didn't upset me, too. I was looking forward to getting to know you a little better. And if you don't have any plans, you're more than welcome to join me if you'd like to." Krista's initial impression of Hans Landa was that he was a sexually driven man, and her intention was to confirm her assumption, no matter how whorish it seemed. She knew she was only going to be in occupied France once, so she naturally had a 'fuck it' attitude. 

*

"It's not much, but it's all I can afford right now," she told him as he followed her into her motel room. She dropped her jacket on the bed before packing away all of her modern day things into her suitcase.

"That's quite alright." He took a few steps closer to her until she could feel his body barely pressing into hers. "I couldn't stop thinking about you," he whispered huskily as his hands made their way down her sides to rest at her hips.

When she felt his lips begin to slowly move up the side of her neck, her eyes closed and her head tilted to the side to allow him more space. One hand moved from her hip and into her hair, giving it a sharp tug. Krista gasped, and Hans smirked. "Do you like that?" She didn't answer. "You do, don't you?" He asked her again, giving her blonde locks another rough pull.

"Yes," she forced out as his other hand tugged her blouse out from her skirt. With deft fingers, he ghosted his way up her taut abdomen, her muscles fluttering beneath his touch. Clearly pleased with her reaction, he caught a bit of her skin between his teeth, eliciting a barely audible moan.

With her eyes still closed, she began to unbutton her shirt, and Hans took a slight step back to help her shrug it off her shoulders. It fell into a heap on the floor, and she turned around to face him fully. For a moment, her eyes fell to his medals that hung on the left side of her chest, and the gravity of her actions hit her. The man's an SS colonel. What was she thinking?

"Do you have any idea what I want to do to you?" He asked her in a low voice, their eyes finally meeting.

She could tell by the dilation of his pupils that he had a fire fueled by lust burning deep inside him just as she did. As her heart rate picked up, she answered without a second thought. "I'll let you do whatever you want to me." After she answered, she almost wished that she had chosen her words better.

Using her shoulders, he turned her around, pressing his chest into her now completely bare back. Krista closed her eyes and tilted her head to the side again, hoping that would be an open invitation for his lips and teeth to roam the skin there once more. Hans gladly accepted the invitation, and his lips began a slow, almost calculated waltz over her skin.

Their proximity gave her goosebumps of anticipation, and when she felt his hand slide tantalizingly slow down the front of her body and dip into her skirt, she felt a type of need that she had never experienced before. Without difficulty, his fingers found their way beneath the waistband of her panties and stopped right over her clit. He adopted an unhurried pace of feather light circular motions, and her head fell back onto his shoulder. Her breath hitched in her throat when he gradually increased pressure, and she felt like her legs were about to collapse from beneath her body.

"Do you want more?" he asked her, his voice smooth as silk over her skin.

Usually, Krista had the upper hand in sexual encounters, but something inside her was telling her to submit to Hans Landa. The more he touched her teasingly, the more he whispered in that gravelly Austrian accented voice, the more she wanted to do just what her brain was telling her.

"Yes," she answered breathily before catching her bottom lip between her teeth at another sudden increase of pressure over her clit.

"What was that?" he asked, his hand abruptly and quickly moving from beneath her panties and into her hair.

Was his play that he wanted her to refer to him by his military title? Probably. He seemed arrogant enough to thoroughly enjoy when he's recognized by 'colonel'. "Yes, colonel."

He gave her hair a more harsh tug this time. "I'm sorry?" He questioned in German.

"Ja, Standartenführer," she replied as she tried to mask the sudden desperation that was likely coloring her words. She found herself to have been successfully lured into his trap, and she wasn't sure that she wanted to attempt to escape from it. It seemed like a fun trap to be in.

It was quite obvious that he was pleased with her reactions to what he was doing, and she could feel his lips curl into a wicked grin on her neck. He came to a halt at her pulse point, and when she felt his teeth gently graze over the area, she had a gut feeling that she would end up with a hickey there at some point. His lips closed around her skin and for a solid twenty seconds, she found herself falling deeper and deeper under his spell. To Krista, it was becoming increasingly apparent, that she would be turned on by anything Hans did, and it was unbelievable to her how her body responded exactly how he wanted it to. It was like her brain wasn't even required to think; her body just acted on impulse without thought. She had to admit though, she was enjoying every second of this.

Hans eased her down onto the bed and she propped herself up on her elbows, and she watched him as he hastily undressed. The simple fact that he looked very physically fit was something that she found very sexy. He wasted no time in covering her body with his, his mouth latching onto every square inch of her skin that he could reach.

She moaned very softly at the caress of his lips and tongue over her bare skin as she tangled her fingers into his hair. "Do you have to tease me?" She questioned breathlessly, arching her back off the bed as his lips closed around one of her nipples.

"Of course. I want you to feel so desperate that you'll beg for me." The thought of being in a state of desperation to the point of begging for him to fuck her was sort of exhilarating. This was the type of sex she lived for; the type that she would do almost anything for. Compared to her other one night stands, she could tell that Landa's controlling personality came shining through, and the things he was saying and doing were second nature.

"Good luck," she told him with a soft laugh, although she knew it wouldn't be long before she would be reduced into a desperate, pleading mess.

"I've always loved a good challenge," he told her as he moved to rest on his side beside her. His right hand slowly brushed its way down into her panties again, his fingers teasing her with the gentlest of touches.

If it was a challenge he wanted, it was a challenge he would get. She put forth every last ounce of self-control she had, and tried her best to keep her cool. But damn, was it so hard when everything he did was a major turn on. He knew exactly what he was doing, and knew exactly what to do in order to get what he was craving so badly. "I like that," she finally mumbled, and before she knew it, her panties had been removed and ended up in the pile of forgotten clothing on the floor.

Krista had this odd feeling that his man had the ability to literally tease her until she was on the verge of explosion, so she didn't know for how much longer she could hold onto her composure. To her this was like a sexual fantasy come true. "Do you want more, Fraulein?" he asked her with that seductive accented voice she was growing to like.

Without answering, her hand curled around the back of his neck which made it very easy for her to bring his lips onto hers. This was their most aggressive kiss yet, and she could he sworn that she had tasted blood after a strong nip to her bottom lip. In a frenzy of heavy breathing and desperate kisses, she drug her nails along the back of his neck and down along his shoulder. He groaned at that and pulled away to catch her eyes. "You must like it rough," he mused before standing up and taking a few steps backward from the bed. He pulled her up to her feet. "Close your eyes," he ordered, and she did exactly as he said. She took that free moment to will her breathing to return to normal, even if just for a second. Once able to slightly catch her breath, she let out a nearly silent gasp when she felt cool metal pressing into her skin. She could hear the telltale clicking of handcuffs closing around her wrists. Apparently, when she had said 'cuff me', he was serious about him doing it later.

"Well, this'll be fun," she mused, looking down at her now bound wrists before looking to him. He eased her down onto her knees before him, their gazes still locked. She leaned forward and slowly took him into her mouth. The eye contact was short lived when his head dropped back, and his hand tangled into her hair. She began to bob her head at a leisurely pace, her tongue moving teasingly over the underside of his member.

Eventually it wasn't enough for him, and he'd had enough of her slow pace. For a few minutes, he repeatedly thrust in and out of her mouth, then hauled her up to her feet and crashed his lips into hers for a forceful kiss. He then eased her down onto the bed, and she positioned her cuffed wrists above her head. His hands were then flat against her skin and they slowly made their way down her body. She arched into his touch, and goosebumps rose to her skin in the wake of his fingertips. 

He pulled her forward so that she was perched just on the edge of the bed, and moved one of her legs to rest on his shoulder, the other hooked around his hip. With a thumb slowly rubbing circles over her clit, he positioned himself at her core and eased into her. She let out a deep moan as he filled her fully, and she struggled against her restraints. Her composure was slipping at an alarming rate. All of her control was out the window. "Please..." she muttered as he stilled inside her.

"Please what?" He pressed, removing her leg from his shoulder so he could spread them.

The overwhelming desire for pleasure was beginning to overtake her, and speech became something of a job. "Please..." she repeated, wriggling her wrists. He caught both of her wrists with one hand, and held them securely above her head, effectively restricting her movement.

"I asked you a question, Fraulein. Please, what?" his voice was firm and commanding, and it almost made her want to disobey out of curiosity.

"Please fuck me," she finally forced out, the pressure of his grip on her wrists causing the cool metal to dig into her skin almost painfully.

He gave her a dark chuckle. "Do you think you can handle it?" he questioned, his face now centimeters from hers.

Of course she could. It was what she was craving at the moment. He adopted an agonizingly slow rhythm of thrusting which only made her anxious for more. Maybe that was his goal; to make her feel that she could never get enough to satisfy. "I know I can," she conceded, her words ghosting over his lips.

"I wouldn't be so sure." Hans smirked before moving to the juncture of skin between her neck and her shoulder, and sinking his teeth in just enough to leave a mark. Normally, Krista had the mindset that hickeys and love bites were tacky, but she was feeling as if wearing his marks like priceless jewelry wouldn't be an issue to her.

Following one final nip to her shoulder, he stood up fully and finally at last released her wrists. His hands moved to grip roughly at her hips after moving both of her legs over one shoulder. She had always been pretty flexible, and she was guessing that he would like that. Without any sort of a warning, his pace picked up and became more deliberate and forceful, but in a good way.

The small room was filled with panting and pleasured moans hat consumed them both. She watched him as he thrust in and out, admiring the way his toned muscles flexed with his every movement. She figured that she probably shouldn't be finding this man as sexy as she was, but at that moment, she didn't give a fuck. She was living in the moment, and the feeling was unrivaled to anything shed ever felt before. 

Abruptly, he slid out of her and flipped her over so that she was bent over the edge of the bed. He drew his hand across her ass with a deafening slap, and she yelped loudly and unexpectedly. He repeated the action again before entering her again easily. He quickly returned to his brisk pace he maintained before landing a third slap. She grasped at the bedding with a white knuckled grip, and Hans didn't cease his thrusting as he reached down for a handful of her hair. He yanked her upward until her back was arching into a deep curve to maintain her balance. He moved his hand out her tangled, messy hair and curled it around her throat without squeezing too hard.

Her hands flew up to hold onto his hand that was around her throat, and dug her sharp nails into his skin and that made him groan loudly. It spurred him on, his movements becoming more rough with each thrust. He tightened his grip on her throat, and the restriction of her breathing was turning her on more, if that was even possible. "Yes..." she murmured.

"Do you like that, too?" he asked into her ear as he continued to slam into her. 

"Yes," she replied, her nails digging into his skin again when his free hand moved to her clit. It was like a sensory overload, and she felt as though she was about to absolutely lose herself.

His thrusting began to grow erratic, and he released his hold on her. She fell down to the bed, catching herself with her hands. When Krista felt his fingers rubbing furiously over her clit, she began to whimper and twisted her fingers into the bedding again. She stifled a cry and her legs began to shake when she finally toppled over the edge into sheer ecstasy. She could feel that he was nearing a climax as well, because he pulled out and took a step back. "On your knees," he demanded through labored breathing.

She was still trying to catch her breath, but she did as he said. She dropped to her knees, and obediently opened her mouth for him. Hans grabbed her hair again to hold her where he wanted her while he placed the head of his cock on her tongue. After a few quick pumps of his hand, he released into her mouth with a loud groan. "Show me how dirty you are," he told her, a wicked grin on his lips. With a matching grin, she looked up at him and closed her mouth to swallow. "I like you," he said, clearly pleased with what she had done.

As they both came down from their blissful highs, they laid down atop the covers on the bed, and he pulled her close to him. "You are absolutely incredible," he said with a lazy smile as he gently ran a hand over her very tangled hair.

"I guess us American girls aren't so bad, are we?" She asked him, allowing her eyes to close as she draped one of her legs over both of his.

"Most definitely not." He placed a hand on her thigh, and began to knead at her skin soothingly. She gave him a soft hum of contentment before adjusting her head to rest on his sweat cooled chest.

"Can you take these off?" she asked with a chuckle as she held up her wrists.

"You don't want to keep them on? I thought you liked them." Regrettably, her pried himself from beneath her, and picked his uniform tunic up from the floor. He rifled around in the pockets and came up empty. "You're not going to want to hear this..."

"What?" she asked, shooting up to a seated position.

"I don't have the key." He picked all of his clothes up and began to redress.

Her mouth fell agape. "Please tell me that's a joke."

He shook his head. "I wish it was." Great. Now she was going to be handcuffed to herself for who knows how long. "I must have left it in my office. I will get it and come right back here."

"Nope. I'm coming with you. If I don't, you'll probably just leave me here like this," she declared, moving to the edge of the bed so she could stand up. "You just have to help me get dressed."

"Trust me, I won't leave you handcuffed. But if you would rather come along, I guess that's alright." Once fully dressed, he smoothed his hair. He looked so well put together that one would never know that he had just had incredible, mind-blowing sex.

He handed her skirt to her, and she blankly stared at him. "Panties, please."

There was that devious smirk again. "You won't be needing them."

She rolled her eyes playfully before struggling into the skirt. She turned her back to him so that he could zip it for her, then turned again to face him.

"I must say, I enjoy seeing you like this." His eyes raked over her body and he simply drank in the sight of the beautiful woman standing handcuffed before him nearly nude. His hand closed around her bottom jaw again, and pulled her face to his for an overly eager kiss. He nipped at her bottom lip, and she giggled playfully out of enjoyment. "I've never met a woman quite like you."

"I hope that's a good thing," she said, crossing the room to grab her long jacket and slip back into her heels.

"It is." He placed the jacket over her shoulders, and buttoned it up the front for her. 

She felt that she looked silly wearing a jacket and not having her hands peeking out from beneath the sleeves, but she would just have to suck it up and deal with it for a short while longer.

*

Landa's office was rather spacious, yet bare at the same time. There were only the necessities inside; a heavy wooden desk and leather chair, a lamp, and a row of filing cabinets along the back wall. With her newly discovered knowledge of Hans via Wikipedia, she was willing to venture a guess that there was a folder full of files tucked away in one of those cabinets that pertained to Jonas. However, now was not the time to embrace her curiosity. She was much more concerned about getting the handcuffs taken off.

She sat perched on the desk, her legs crossed in a lady like fashion as they dangled off. Krista hadn't noticed just how sore she was until that moment. If she was that sore then, she could only imagine how she would feel the next morning. 

"Here we are," he said once he finally located the key in question. He unbuttoned her jacket with the utmost care before grabbing her wrists and holding them up so he could set her free. "I hope I get the chance to do this to you again," he told her as he removed the cuffs.

She rubbed her sore wrists, and flashed him a grin. "I'd let you."

"That's what I like to hear." He placed the restraints in a desk drawer along with the corresponding key and moved to stand between her legs. His hands moved beneath the hem of her skirt, and his fingers brushed over her clit briefly, the unexpected touch making her jump. Krista placed one hand behind her on the desk as both of his hands came to rest on her thighs. Her free hand landed on the back of his neck, urging him forward when she let her head fall back. The column of her throat was now exposed, and his lips were quick to explore the expanse of skin there.

"Colonel, you are requested in the conference room." The door was now opened, and a tall and slender, but not skinny, major stood in the door. His eyes were a piercing ice blue, and his dark hair was slicked back into a professional queue. Although Krista sat atop the desk, the major didn't seem to be phased in the slightest. Perhaps having women nearly naked in his office wasn't out of the ordinary.

Krista hurried to pull her jacket closed across her body, her cheeks blushing a furious shade of deep red. "I'll be there momentarily," he growled, clearly upset about the interruption.

For a moment, she and the major had locked eyes before the embarrassment set in, and she averted her gaze. The major turned to Hans after another few seconds of his eyes lingering on Krista and nodded. "Yes, sir." He turned and walked out.

"I'm sorry about that," he apologized, rubbing the back of his neck before buttoning her jacket back up for her after she slipped her arms into the sleeves. 

Krista stood up from the desk, and pushed her hair behind her ears. "It's alright. He's probably just jealous." She took a step toward him, her hand curling around his neck again, their lips meeting gently. Their tongues mingled teasingly for a second before she pulled away. "I guess I should get going."

"I'll escort you out." He placed a hand on the small of her back and walked her out of the office and out of the building. She forced herself to ignore the stares and looks from the other officers in the building as they walked out, but part of her thought it was sort of funny that she was getting odd looks.

Outside, the sun was already beginning to set, and it colored the city sky like a watercolor painting. It was beautiful. "I hope to see you again soon." He pulled the collar of her jacket down and smirked when his eyes fell onto the marks he had left on her skin. "I enjoyed this." He ran a thumb over one of the darker bruises before fixing her collar. "Did you?"

"If I didn't, I would have tried to stop you." She offered him a smile before tying the belt of her jacket around her waist securely.

"Good. Because there's more of it to come."


	3. Jealousy

March 21st, 1943; Sunday

In the days following Krista and Landa's adventure in sexual desire, they had not seen even a quick glimpse of each other. Although she was dying to go stand outside the bar and simply wait for him to approach her and make her world spin in pleasure, she chose to stay inside and simply relax. 

The marks that covered her tanned skin were healing just as they should, but they were still very dark. They had reached the ugly yellowing phase, but she still smiled to herself whenever she caught the sight of them in her reflection in a mirror.

Every now and then, her thoughts would drift to Hans, and how absolutely amazing it felt when his lips brushed over her skin or when he pulled her hair when they kissed. He was dominating and aggressive, and she liked it more than she should care to admit. It was difficult for her to comprehend how easily everything he did made her want him so badly and seemingly put her into a hypnotized state, but it was kind of fun.

It was almost seven in the evening, and Krista found herself so bored that she decided to take a shower to ease the boredom. She hauled her suitcase into the cramped bathroom with her, and pulled out all of her toiletries. A fluffy towel hung on a metal towel rack, and she laid it on the sink for when she was finished for easier access to it.

She took a shower so hot that it left her skin red, but she didn't care. The heat made the still lingering soreness of her muscles melt away like butter on a fresh waffle.

With her hair and body now clean and legs freshly shaven, she turned the water off, and grabbed the towel from the sink to dry herself off. She cleared a circle in the condensation on the mirror, and found her eyes glued to the marks that Hans had left on her again. They were simply a reminder of likely some of the best sex she had ever had. After she had wrapped her almost too long hair up into the towel, she went back to the suitcase for the next step of her relaxing evening. She unearthed her favorite satin kimono from Victoria's Secret once her skin was no longer wet, and slipped it on. She always adored the sensation of satin material sliding across freshly shaven limbs.

As she tied the thin satin belt around her waist, she made her way to the small kitchenette in her room to retrieve a bottle of Dasani from the small provided refrigerator that was at her disposal. The cold water felt incredibly refreshing, even though the temperature in her room was relatively chill.

Next, she pulled her half dead phone from the same suitcase and sat down on the bed along with her bottle of water. She turned on Good Mythical Morning on YouTube to catch up on the week's worth of episodes she had missed, and sat the bottle of water beside her.

She had made it half way through the first episode's corresponding Good Mythical More when there was a knock at the door. She quickly stuffed her phone and the bottle of water into her suitcase to hide it, and she made her way to the door.

There was no peep hole on the wooden door, so she was praying that she wasn't opening the door to a group of Gestapo officers that were actually going to arrest her for who knows what.

She opened the door, and on the other side stood Hans Landa. She offered him a polite smile. "Standartenführer Landa," she said, leaning against the door frame with crossed arms. "I honestly didn't think I'd be seeing you again." Krista took a step to the side and allowed him into her motel room. "What brings you here?" She asked him, closing the door tightly once he was inside.

He smiled that crooked smile that she liked so much. "You," he answered simply.

"I like the sound of that," she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed and leaned back slightly.

He sat beside her, his eyes wandering over her slender but physically fit figure. He lingered for a moment over her chest where she knew that her nipples were easily seen through the thin satin of her kimono, and she found herself blushing a teeny bit. "I actually came by to extend a dinner invitation to you." Hans placed his hand on one of her thighs, his fingers curling around it.

'Oh not right now...' Krista thought to herself. She'd literally just gotten herself clean, and the last thing she wanted was to end up with a fine layer of sweat over her body as a result of another playful romp in the sheets. "I'd love to. I just need a few minutes to get ready."

Again, she hauled her suitcase into the bathroom and pulled out a sleek, mid length black dress with a deep neckline and long sleeves. She wriggled into it before applying the quickest face of makeup she'd ever applied. She emerged from the bathroom looking like a completely different person although her hair was still wet.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said before rolling her lips together and grabbing her heels that lay abandoned on the floor.

His eyes met her form and just like that, he was in awe. She had curves in all the right places, and the dress she had chosen was doing an excellent job of accentuating them. "You look great." He stood up and stood in front of her, his hand moving to gently cup her cheek.

"I know," she replied arrogantly with a grin. His lips met hers ever so softly, and she smiled in return. She would never tire of the way his lips felt as if they were melting into hers with every kiss they shared.

"Shall we?" He offered his hand to her and she took it, following him out of the motel room. She locked the door behind them, and dropped the key into the small beaded clutch that she had grabbed on her way out the door.

Outside the front of the motel, a sleek black Mercedes type 770 sporting a pair of Nazi flag pennants idled in the circular driveway. She took a deep breath as a peculiar nervous feeling washed over her. Were they really going to dinner or was she being escorted to a dark alley and placed before a Gestapo shooting squad because of her origins? Then she really thought deeply about it. Had her being from the US been an issue, Hans wouldn't have slept with her or made an effort to see her again. She figured she was in the clear for now at least.

She smiled once Hans opened the back door for her. Krista was never a fan of German engineering when it came to cars due to the simple fact that she found their American counterparts much easier to work on, but she had to admit. There was just something so satisfying about the way that the front doors opened backward. She slid into the backseat and made herself comfortable on the bench seat.

*

Krista found herelf standing outside a picturesque farm house approximately ten miles or so away from the motel where she was currently staying. The front door had ornate filigree designes carved into it, ans she found it aesthetically pleasing. The inside was simply a continuation of what the outside started. It was decorated in such a lavish, stunning fashion that she found her eyes unable to stay in one place for more than a second. Large paintings adorned the walls, and the massive picture windows allowed the evening light of the Golden Hour to flood in and bathe everything in its path in a ethereal golden glow.

At the very front of the house was the kitchen. It was very modest and straight to the point, but still spacious. To the left of the kitchen was a large living area furnished with a pair of cozy looking leather armchairs and a matching leather couch. A wooden coffee table sat in the middle of the sitting area, completely bare aside from a lone white orchid situated inside of a blue ceramic flower pot.

Toward the rear of the house was a long hallway that she could only assume to lead to a bedroom. Or two... or three. She couldn't tell for sure. The house definitely seemed big enough for at least a few bedrooms and bathrroms at least. Past the hallway, she could see nothing else.

"Beautiful house," Krista said, her eyes still moving around to take in the wide open floor plan that was set out before her.

"Thank you." Hans offered a smile to her and went straight to the refrigerator, but cursed. "I forgot to get a bottle of wine for dinner. I'll go into town to get one and be right back. You're more than welcome to stay here and make yourself at home. Major Hellstrom should be here momentarily anyway."

Krista nodded. She didn't know who exactly this Major Hellstrom was, but she was about to find out.

Now alone in the house, she seized the opportunity to 'explore' so to speak. Her adventure was cut short when her eyes fell upon a painting beside one of the huge picture windows that had been painted in a style that she recognized from her AP Art History class in high school. It was clearly from the Impressionist Period, and with that knowledge, she was able to deduce the artist; none other than the great Claude Monet. It was one of the many paintings from his Water Lilies series. The series consisted of some two hundred or so painting containing similar subject matter, if her memory served her correctly. She couldn't be sure of which exact painting this was in the series, but nonetheless, it was stunning. "Holy shit," she mumbled to herself. Out of respect for fine art, she resisted the urge to reach out and let her fingertips wander over the texture of the painting.

Monet had been a favorite artist of hers since she could remember, and seeing one of his works up close and personal felt absolutely surreal. She'd always found the beauty of his work captivating, and she could have sat there and stared at it for hours, always finding a different section of it to hold her attention.

Then her stomach suddenly sank. The Nazi regime had been notorious for looting invaluable pieces of art across Europe from anywhere they could get ahold of it. She again recalled a handful of lessons from the same Art History class where they had discussed the looting of works of art and how many of them had still not been accounted for. With that being said, she was to assume that the painting that hung before her was one of those that had been confiscated from who knows where. She wondered if this specific painting was one of the ones that had never been found following the end of the war.

Regardless, she continued to let her eyes wander over the messy brushstrokes so intently that she nearly missed the knock at the door that came from the front of the house. Krista's heels clicked beneath her on the hardwood floor as she walked to the door. When she opened it, she was greeted by a man a few inches taller than herself, and clad in a Hugo Boss designed black Gestapo uniform.

"Sturmbannführer Hellstrom?" Krista asked, really layering on a thick, phony accent that she hoped sounded legitimate.

He nodded and removed his military cover from atop his head before stepping inside. "You must be Krista."

She nodded as well before answering. "That's me."

It smacked her in the face like a baseball bat. She closed the door and simply stood there for a brief moment as her brain struggled to catch up. Major Hellstrom was the one who had so rudely interrupted Landa the day that she was with him in his office. The man has essentially seen her naked. How awkward.

When she finally turned around, she sat down on one side of the couch and it took her all of half a second to come to the conclusion that said couch would be ideal for napping.

The Major plopped down on the side of the couch opposite her and smoothed a hand over his neatly groomed hair. He didn't notice the first time she had seen him because she was more concerned about covering her naked torso up to avoid wandering eyes, but he was kind of... hot. But in an adorable sort of way. His eyes were that pale frosty blue that she was a sucker for and she thought his freckles were cute, too. She found herself staring unintentionally, but his words snapped her out of her weird trance. "Hans tells me that you're from Austria," he stated in beautiful German.

"Huh?" She asked when she was finally drawn back into reality.

He smiled when he noticed her blankly staring and he seemed to find it flattering. "You're from Austria, correct?"

"Oh. Yes, I'm from Austria. Slightly south of Vienna," she answered quickly.

He eyed her carefully just as he had before, but this time, she kept her eyes glued to his. "What?" She asked with a half assed grin. "Did I say something wrong?"

He shook his head, and shifted his position on the couch cushion. "Not at all. I'm just trying to figure out how such a pretty girl ended up with someone like Landa. You're not really... his typical choice of woman."

She was unsure if she should feel flattered or offended by his statement, so she chose to feel neither. "What do you mean by that?" She asked, raising an eyebrow. Krista twisted a long lock of blonde hair around her finger and released it. "Are you saying that I'm too pretty for him?" She tilted her head to the side, and her eyes found his again.

She could tell that this major was the no nonsense type of guy, so she thought it wise to tread carefully with her words. She didn't know him, therefore he could be the biggest backstabber in the history of the world and would relay everything she said right back to Landa so he could use it against her. He changed the subject without answering. "He mentioned that you were looking for your family. Is that true?" She swallowed and shifted her gaze to the large open window surrounded by white lace curtains.

She took a deep breath. "Yes. Both of my parents were killed," she began, piggybacking off the story she had told the woman that ran the motel she was staying in. "So I've been looking for the last of my remaining family," she finished with fake sadness.

"I'm terribly sorry to hear that." He reached out and gave her hand a sympathetic squeeze, and she simply smiled a closed lip smile in return. She was having trouble really deciphering his tone of voice. Was he actually being sympathetic, or was it just as fake as her story had been?

Nearly a half hour had passed, and Hans had still not returned from wherever it was that he had gone to get wine. Over that thirty minute time frame, she and the major had simply... talked. They talked about some of the most off the wall things that could be talked about. They teased each other, and they easily made each other laughed. What scared her was how well they were getting along, and how easily they had seemed to click. She was also quite thankful that he didn't shame her for being into Hans mainly for the sex. If he did, she would feel more like a thirsty whore and not just someone who was sex driven. 

The whole time they politely conversed, Krista tried her absolute best not to think about the way he looked at her. He had this constant half dazed look on his face like he was hanging on every word that fell from her lips. It was like he was entranced by her presence; like he was madly in love with her without even really knowing her. "You know, I never caught your name." She finally said once there was a brief break in their conversation.

"Dieter," he answered simply, flashing her a sweet and honest smile.

"I like that name," she replied, resting her chin in the palm of one of her hands. 

"I like yours too. Krista's a beautiful name for such a beautiful girl." He smiled then, and it was genuine smile. Beneath that fear inducing Gestapo uniform, he was a truly sweet man.

Her cheeks turned a pale shade of pink at his innocent enough compliment. "Thank you."

They shared another dreamy gaze before the front door opened and she was painfully sucked back to reality. "I trust you stayed out of trouble," Hans said to no one in particular as he placed the bottle of red wine onto his kitchen table.

"Of course," she responded. Dieter stood up and made his way into the kitchen. He pulled a kitchen knife from a drawer and took a few ingredients for the dinner from the refrigerator. He was a cook? How interesting. "Is there anything I can help you with?" she asked curiously.

"No thank you. I can manage," Dieter answered her, scowling. He didn't seem too pleased to be in charge of preparing their meal, but he did it because he had no other choice. 

Hans poured two glasses of wine for both himself and Krista and sat down on the couch beside her. She took the glass graciously, and took a long sip. Hans scooped up both of her toned legs, and positioned them so that they were draped over his lap. Without a word, he massaged her thigh, his fingertips slowly beginning to sneak beneath the hem of her dress. "Now is not the time for this, colonel," she warned him in a low, even voice, even though a devious grin adorned her face.

He took a sip from his wine before placing the glass carefully on the coffe table before them. "Are you sure?" He asked her, matching her grin easily. His fingers continued to move higher up her inner thigh while his other hand held her legs. "We could make it quick," he tried, giving her thigh a squeeze.

"Stop!" she giggled playfully, although she really didn't want him to stop. She had been craving his touch again like she craved greasy pizza after she had smoked a blunt. "Not now," she told him in a faux scolding voice.

She briefly looked over to where Dieter was working in the kitchen, and saw that he had casted a sidelong glance in their direction, his expression showing either disgust or sadness. She couldn't tell which. "You'll get it later then."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" She countered curious to see where this conversation would lead.

"Which would you prefer?" He questioned, his hand still creeping higher under her dress. He was so skilled at getting her going that she didn't quite know what exactly to do with herself. Not to mention, he thoroughly enjoyed the effect that he had on her.

She cracked a smile before taking another sip from her glass, seductively licking her lips afterward. "A threat sounds more fun. Don't you think?" She placed her glass beside his and leaned closer to him.

He followed suit and closed the remaining space between them, their lips barely brushing. His hand that was on her thigh and under her dress quickly moved into her silken blonde hair nd he gave it a gentle yet assertive tug. "Don't tempt me to take you right now," he told her, their lips still not meeting.

She wanted nothing more than to continue this slow burning teasing game of his, but she also had the sudden, overwhelming urge to bring their lips together in a fierce kiss. "I would never do that." But she knew damn well that she would. Two could play the teasing game.

"Do you think that im joking?" he asked as his grip on her hair tightened fractionally.

She wanted to see how far she could push him before he caved and stripped her naked before fucking her senseless, but with someone else in the house that she knew very little about seemed strange. She'd just have to push his boundaries some other time. "Absolutely not."

"Don't toy with me, Fraulein," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

"I wouldn't dare." With his hand still buried in her hair, she took that final step and forced her lips to his. He was glad to accept. Their lips moved in tandem, like they knew each other's moves before they had even been made.

"I think you're just what I've been looking for," he told her honestly before he caught her kiss swollen bottom lip in between his teeth.

Hearing those words escape from his mouth made her feel like perhaps things were moving too fast and she was getting in too deep. She had no plans to become emotionally involved with this man at all. Becoming emotionally tethered to someone was never really her cup of tea, which is why her previous relationships never lasted for more than a few months at most. And just because sex with him was great, she wasn't going to change her mindset. She had at least that much self-control. "I wouldn't be so quick to say that," she warned, lifting an eyebrow. She reached for her glass then and drained it, suddenly eager for an excuse to get up from the couch and get herself more wine.

Krista clicked her way into the kitchen table and closed her hand around the neck of the wine bottle that was there and tipped it, the burgundy liquid contained within spilling into her glass. "Are you sure you don't need any help?" She asked, moving to stand beside Dieter, wine glass in hand.

"I've got it under control," he answered in a somewhat irritated tone, and avoided eye contact with her.

Krista let her eyes sweep over his seemingly tense form for a moment before offering him a smile that he didn't see, and rejoined Hans on the couch.

*

The mixed aromas of cooked vegetables and smoked sausage wafted from Krista's plate and she inhaled deeply. "This looks great," she noted, looking over to Dieter with a polite smile. To her surprise, he smiled in return and finally met her eyes.

"Thank you," he finally replied, their eyes still glued to one another's. Just from gazing into those beautiful blue orbs of his, she noticed that they had a sort of ethereal quality to them, and that she could easily find herself lost in them. Even though he was clearly a hardened Gestapo officer, she didn't feel any different about what she thought. He'd be the perfect guy to take home to mom under different circumstances. What was with her brain meats in thinking that she needed to be attracted to the men of the SS? Maybe her subconscious was stoned off its ass and not thinking properly.

Hans cleared his throat before digging into his plate of food again. Krista blinked before dropping her eyes down to the table. Clearly her eye contact with the major wasn't to his liking. Perhaps he viewed it as inadvertent flirting.

"There is a formal event to be held this coming Saturday at the Saint James that I would very much like for you to accompany me to." Hans quickly glanced to Dieter before setting his eyes on Krista.

Unsure of whether or not to accept this invitation, she weighed the possible options in her head. This seemed like an invitation for a date, and that wasn't the type of relationship she wanted with Hans. She didn't like dating. She thought it was a waste of time. However, a formal SS event would likely include free food and an open bar. "Oh, I don't know. I don't think im really the type of girl that belongs somewhere like that." She had never been the most feminine woman, but she couldn't lie to herself; anytime she had the opportunity to dress up like an A list actress set to walk the red carpet, she wasn't going to turn it down.

"I think you are." Dieter interjected, and it was right then and there that she was just waiting for shit to hit the fan. Hans simply ignored Dieter's comment and looked to Krista intently, awaiting an answer. 

"I'll have to go buy a dress. I don't have one."

He waved her off. "I'll cover it. Don't worry," he smiled at her before taking a long drink that emptied his wine glass. Krista noticed out of the corner of her eye that Dieter's face was contorted in displeasure. What exactly was it that he had an issue with?

They finished the rest of their meal in awkward, tension filled silence. Once they were finished, Krista leaned back in her chair and clasped her hands together behind her head. She watched quietly as Hans was quick to shoo Dieter out of the house once they were finished eating. The door was left open just a crack, which was just enough for her to be able to hear the hushed but angry German voice coming from the other side.

"Don't get any ideas with her," she heard Hans say in a somewhat angry voice.

Dieter seemed defensive when he spoke. "I don't know what you're talking about." Maybe it was more cockiness than defensiveness.

"I saw the way you were looking at her. Don't get any ideas."

She could hear Dieter let out a breathy laugh. "She doesn't deserve to be treated how you treat your women. She's better than that."

"She is better than that, yes. But I will not be told how to conduct my relationships by an arrogant major like yourself. Don't do anything you'll regret. I can have you sent right back to Berlin."

He didn't seem to be shaken by the colonel's words, because his response was made in one of the snarkiest, snottiest tones she had ever heard. "Yes, sir." She heard a motorcycle start up moments later, and she heard it peel away from the house.

Krista turned her attention out the window above the kitchen sink and could see Dieter riding off into the distance. A Nick Jonas song suddenly popped into her head.

"I don't like the way he's looking at you. I'm starting to think you want him, too."


	4. Alexander McQueen and Jeffree Star

March 24th, 1943; Wednesday

The key that Krista held in her hand had a gentle weight to it. It was a unique skeleton key that unlocked the door to the new hotel room she was going to be calling 'home' for the unforeseeable future. Since she had slowly been getting closer to Hans, she had been gifted an all-expenses paid stay in a hotel room at the Saint James.

Hans had given her the key for her upgraded room the day before, telling her that she deserved to be staying somewhere much nicer than her shabby motel room. It was a nice change of pace to be offered a nice room in a prestigious hotel, but she had grown quite fond of her little motel room.

The Saint James was incredible. It was as beautiful on the outside as it was in. The combination of white walls and gleaming gold accents gave her the impression that she was inside of a palace. The windows that surrounded the spacious lobby offered a fair amount of natural light to be let in, even though the outside atmosphere was gloomy and rain relentlessly fell from the sky.

Krista's room was on the top floor, and she couldn't believe her eyes when she finally opened the door. She unceremoniously dropped her suitcase to the floor, and her mouth fell agape. Holy shit this probably cost a fortune. The room looked like it came straight out of one of those European travel magazines that showcased the nicest hotels in the largest cities that no normal person could ever afford. If she stood on the balcony, she had a perfect view of the Eiffel Tower to the southeast. While she was still not the biggest fan of the city, it was still pretty neat to be able to see a monument of that importance directly from her hotel room.

A massive canopy bed adorned with pristine white silk bedding was situated in the center of one of the walls. Upon further inspection, she noticed that all of the bedding had some form of glimmering gold piping or embroidery, which contrasted beautifully with the stark white.

She flopped down flat on the bed, leaving her suitcase forgotten near the door, and sighed happily at the comfort the bed was providing for her. It was incredibly nice for Hans to offer to pay for the room for her even after she had repeatedly expressed that it wasn't something that she needed. He simply waved her off like money was of no concern. Must be nice. But still, he insisted, and that persistence got her placed right in the lap of luxury.

Fat drops of rain trickled down the window panes beside that vanity table in her room. It had a saddening vibe in a way, but Krista had always loved the rain. It felt renewing and refreshing to her. She also loved the sounds it made when it collided with any and every object in its path. The pitter patter of the drops was oddly soothing, and she adored the way it felt when it kissed her skin.

She turned her gaze away from the window and padded her way into the bathroom for a hot bath in the claw foot tub there.

Following her bath and a helping of fresh strawberries and champagne, the first night of sleep, and all other subsequent nights of sleep came easily. As much as she had grown attached to her small motel room, this was the upgrade she didn't know she was looking for. Getting pampered by an SS colonel was something she could get used to. 

March 27th, 1943; Saturday

It was now the fourth day in a row that the sky above Paris was the same color of a Destroyer Grey Dodge Challenger accompanied by a light rain that refused to let up.

The soft sound of Led Zeppelin's 'Kashmir' drifted through the air from Krista's phone and filled her hotel room as she prepared herself for the gala she was set to attend later that evening. Krista stared at her reflection in the mirror at the ornate vanity table she sat at, then down to the open Jeffree Star Cosmetics eyeshadow palette in her lap. She picked up a second palette and raked her eyes over the shades until she finally decided on an eyeshadow look to aim for. She meticulously blended each shade on her lids, then topped them with "Rich Bitch", the glittery gold shade from the Beauty Killer palette. Following that, she perfectly applied a dramatic winged liner, and completed her eye look with a fresh pair of Queen B lashes from Koko Lashes. They were long and wispy, and just what the look required.

Taking a break from applying her makeup, she crossed the bedroom to the long black garment bag that hung on the wall. She unzipped the bag, and found herself in awe by the Alexander McQueen gown she had recently purchased in Chicago precisely for this event. She shed the clothes she was wearing, including her bra, and changed into a black lacy thong before finally sliding into the floor length dress. When it was on her body, she fell in love with it all over again... Maybe she loved it even more than her last boyfriend. It fit her like a glove, and the way that in accentuated her frame was likely her favorite part of it. 

Krista finished her look with a sleek pair of Christian Louboutin So Kate pumps and a generous layer of some shimmery pale gold highlight applied atop her cheek bones. She dug around her purse until finally she could feel the small pink box that contained her holy grail lipstick. Jeffree Star's Unicorn Blood.

Fully dressed and done up like a supermodel now, she gazed at herself into the floor length mirror on the back of the bathroom door. She found herself posing in multiple positions, and shifted her weight from foot to foot so that she could see her designer gown clad body from all angles.

She picked up a gold beaded clutch she had borrowed from her sister off the bed and stood before the mirror once more. After some final adjustments to the gleaming crystal hair comb she found at an antique store while back in Wisconsin, she was finally ready to go.

She walked out onto the balcony and snapped a quick picture of herself with her phone, making sure to capture the mist shrouded Eiffel Tower in the background. She had spent far too much money and put far too much effort into her appearance for the night to forget what the end product looked like.

After she powered her phone down and tucked it away safely into her suitcase, she made her way to the door, as she was set to meet Hans soon.

The moment came sooner than expected, because he was standing outside the door when she flung it open. He was wearing that characteristic smile that she had grown to like because she knew that that smile was meant for her and no one else. Then when she added that to the way he looked at her like she was a goddess incarnate, it made her feel like a million bucks.

She leaned against the door frame, sticking one hip forward slightly. "Look at you, all dressed up," she said, and he took a step closer. Her fingers fell to his medals on his chest. "You look good. I bet your girl is lucky."

"I should say the same to you. You look absolutely incredible. And yes, my girl is very lucky." His eyes raked over her body hungrily before his hands fell to her hips. "I'm a very lucky man," he told her with a grin before dropping a tender kiss to her cheek.

"Damn straight you are," her deep red lips curling upward into a smirk.

Down in the ballroom, the party was already in full swing. Everyone down on the base floor looked so jovial and likely already half drunk, which was the exact sort of party that she liked to be in attendance to.

She was already eyeing the bar in the corner of the wide open room, and she was eager to make a stop there and join in on the evening's festivities.

As soon as the two of them made it to the top of the staircase that was on the outskirts of the ballroom, she could feel dozens of sets of beady eyes boring into the two of them. When they descended down the stairs arm in arm, she could hear muffled voices and whispers from the crowd. She couldn't help but smile with the thought in her head that every woman in the room was envious toward her for one reason or another.

Ignoring the stares from the people around them, they stopped when a photographer approached them. This really was like a Hollywood red carpet event. They posed together like a happy couple, then the photographer wandered off when he was finished.

She was wearing her confidence as bright as her highlight on her cheekbones. She was never really the boasting type, but she couldn't help but send cocky grins in the directions of each very visibly envious woman that dared look her way. Their looks made her feel like she was the most beautiful woman in the room, and she couldn't lie. It felt amazing.

A tall woman dressed in a silver mermaid gown complimented Krista's appearance as soon as she had the opportunity. "You're so beautiful!" she exclaimed, unable to hide her excitement.

"Thank you so much," she responded before flashing the woman a dazzling smile. A waiter walked past them carefully carrying a sterling silver tray, taking care to keep the champagne flutes atop it balanced. Krista was quick to snatch one up before he got too far away from her. She drank it slowly so that it didn't look like she was here only for the booze. She wanted the fastest route to a nice functional drunk state, but Hans had different intentions.

He took Krista's hand and led her slightly away from the crowd and into the wide open dining hall. As they walked past several people, she noticed them turn their heads to look at them, no caring if it was obvious or not. They walked to a group of high ranking officers, and Krista's heart rate quickened. She recognized them both immediately, and reality began to feel like a cruel nightmare. These two guys were not to be messed with under any circumstances. They were both ranked a fair amount higher than Hans, and one slip up from her would be all she wrote. Although she was very nervous and nearly trembling as a result, she couldn't believe that she was about to meet number one and two of the SS. Maybe she wouldn't have to talk much and run the risk of giving herself away. "Krista, I'd like you to meet Reichsführer Himmler and Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner." 

She froze for a moment as she struggle to absorb the situation set out before her. The Heinrich Himmler and the Ernst Kaltenbrunner stood mere feet away from her, and she felt her nervousness intensify. Her heart felt like it would hammer right out of her chest of she were to give it the chance. The two men put together were responsible for the deaths of so many innocent lives, it was difficult to fathom. She tried to recall everything she could remember after reading mounds of books about the SS, the Gestapo, and the Nazi regime altogether. Himmler's death was a result of a cyanide pill in 1945. Kaltenbrunner replaced Reinhard Heydrich following his assassination in 1942, and was the highest ranking officer tried at the Nuremburg trials, then was sentenced to execution even after pleading not guilty to the crimes he had committed. "Pleased to meet you both," Krista offered politely in German with a smile. They both smiled back, and her panic slowly began to dissolve. However, she still wasn't off the hook yet. 

All eyes were on her all of a sudden, and she wasn't enjoying it like she thought she would... but she refused to allow herself to fall into a state of panic. "So you're the woman Hans keeps going on about. He tells us that you're the best woman he's ever had." Himmler smiled at her. Hans must have been much more of an important asset than she thought to be in close with Himmler and Kaltenbrunner, and that was slightly terrifying. They were both very brutal, ruthless men. 

The way Krista saw it, there were two options on how to react to this bombshell of a statement. Either play along, and act like the perfect Austrian girlfriend she was being made out to be, or truly show her surprise that Landa had been telling people that they were an item. She quickly decided on the previous, in the mood to play a little game. Oh how shocked Landa would be to see her going along with it. She rolled her dark red lips together before speaking. "I can say the same about him." She felt his arm curl around her waist, which prompted her to place a gentle hand on his chest. "He's great," she turned to Landa, dropping a soft kiss to his lips before pulling away and smiling. 

She could sense his surprise when her lips suddenly met his, and clearly he saw it as an unexpected gesture. "I'm happy for you," the woman with light brown hair standing beside Kaltenbrunner said happily. 

When they split up and went their separate ways, Landa looked down at Krista's now empty champagne flute. "Would you like me to get you a drink?" he asked, leading her over to where a bartender stood in a sleek black tuxedo. 

Her heels clicked across the marble floor as they walked, focusing on keeping herself upright since it had been such a long time since she had worn and form of shoe that was either a steel toed boot or a tennis shoe. "I'd like a Manhattan please," she told the man behind the bar. 

"I would like the same," Landa told the man. 

"Have you ever had one?" She asked him, seriously doubting that he had. 

"I haven't, but I trust your judgment."

Krista snorted. "You're brave for trusting my judgment."

Hans watched as the bartender mixed their drinks. "Of all the women I've ever met, you're the only one that favors whiskey to most anything else." She hadn't thought about it until he'd brought it up. It likely wasn't common for women in the forties to drink whiskey.

Sydney always joked and said that Krista would drink Manhattans because she was a classy bitch, but she couldn't quite say that. Instead she simply shrugged. "I guess that just makes me different from all the other women." She smirked to him and happily accepted her drink when it was handed to her. She quickly took a drink from it and held the dark amber liquid in her mouth for a short moment before swallowing it. 

He did the same, his eyes never leaving her as he drank. "You are most definitely different. And I like it." He leaned to her, their lips touching yet again. She found herself trying to exercise self-restraint as a result of the added element of the alcohol on his lips, and she wanted more. "You're very different," he told her in a low voice, that same voice that did things to her that she couldn't quite explain.

"It's kind of warm in here; do you think we could go outside?" She asked, looking down into her now half empty glass.

"I thought you'd never ask," he said, taking another drink before taking her free hand and leading her out the back of the building. 

The rain that fell from above seemed to have lightened, and was now nothing more than a gentle drizzle.

The courtyard in the rear of the hotel was lined with tall, skinny trees. The ground was coated in perfectly manicured grass wherever a stone path was absent. Together, they stood under an awning that was situated above the top couple of stairs, effectively staying out of the rain. She took his glass from him and placed it on the ground beside her own. With a devilish grin, she pressed him into the wall he stood in front of, and slowly touched her full lips to his in a teasing manner. "I just wanted to be alone with you," she murmured in German against his lips. "And I didn't think you would be opposed." She had a hunch that she was right. She could tell from the very first time they had kissed that he was unable to get enough of her, and the feeling was mutual. It was probably wrong on so many levels, but her ability to give a fuck was slowly disintegrating with every lip lock. What was he doing to her?

She grasped at the front of his uniform jacket and pulled their bodies flush, not giving him an opportunity to reply, but he didn't have to. His fingers found their way into her hair, and he gave it a harsh tug, pulling her head back the give him room to move his lips across the smooth, delicate skin of her neck. Once she felt his teeth graze across her skin, she knew she had to nip this in the bud quick, or else they'd end up naked in the grass together, and now wasn't the time for that. "Hans..." she mumbled. "I don't think now is the time for this," she barely managed as he slowly kissed his way back up to her lips. "Take me home with you," she finally breathed after a few fiery moments. She caught his bottom lips between her teeth briefly and let go. "Please?" she asked, feigning innocence, batting her eyelashes playfully.

He gave her hair another tug and caught her deep emerald eyes. "Do you think you could handle me again?" 

Their few encounters had been nothing short of amazing. By the end, she always felt like she was floating on a cloud high in the sky. Not to mention, she had handled him before with no problems, but she was ready to turn the tables on him. She was becoming more aware of just how badly she wanted him, and prolonging the inevitable at this point was useless. "I think that's more of a question I should be asking you," she replied, a smirk tugging at her lips. 

"You're not innocent at all, are you?" he questioned, his eyes still never moving from hers.

She let out a breathy laugh. "I never said I was innocent. And you should know by now that I'm not. Take me home with you, and I'll prove it."

When he finally removed his hand from her hair, he let it drop to her shoulder. "We should probably go back inside. People will wonder what happened to us," he said, moving away from her to retrieve the two glasses from the ground.

They each took a sip and shared one final quick kiss before heading back inside. She licked her lips before rolling them together. "I'm going to go to the bathroom. I'll be right back," she said before venturing off to find where the bathroom was. Miraculously, it didn't take her very long to find it, and once inside, she gently placed her glass on the counter and turned to the mirror to evaluate her appearance. She puckered her lips and looked at them closely. Jeffree Star had done it again. Her lipstick remained exactly where it had been applied. As she touched up her makeup, a woman entered and began doing the same. She looked over to Krista, her eyes directly at her lips. "Excuse me miss, your lipstick... It's such a beautiful color," the woman said politely in German. She appeared to be a few years younger than Krista, and she was the textbook definition of gorgeous; like a young Scarlett Johansson. 

She looked down to the small tube in liquid lipstick in her hand and smiled. "Thank you," she smiled. She thought for a moment, and turned back to the woman. "It would complement your skin tone so well. Do you want to try it?"

The woman nodded, and unscrewed the wand up. "Just open your mouth a little bit, and relax your lips." The woman obeyed, and did exactly as Krista said. She quickly and expertly applied Unicorn Blood to her lips, and smiled at the end result. "There. Perfect."

The woman looked in the mirror and smiled brightly. "Thank you so much! I love it!"

"If you have trouble taking it off, use olive oil or butter. It'll take it right off," Krista told her, knowing full and well how finicky liquid lipstick could be to remove. 

"Thank you so much..."

She assumed that she was in a roundabout sort of way asking for her name. "Oh, uh, Krista," she said.

She nodded her head, and it appeared as if she were having an epiphany of sorts. "You're Colonel Landa's girl. I saw you with him earlier. You're a very lucky girl," She said simply before making her exit from the bathroom. 

"Oooookay," Krista said to herself once she was alone. That was definitely weird. She took one last look at herself and placed the lipstick back into her small gold clutch. Grabbing her drink, she left the bathroom and set off to try to find Landa again, which was proving to be rather difficult due to the number of men clad in their military uniforms. So instead of wandering around, she decided to just stand near the bar and hope that eventually he'd turn up. Like a dog that ran away but finally decided to go back home when he got hungry.

While she stood there, two more women come up to her and asked if they could wear some of her lipstick. Clearly the word was travelling fast that she had some sort of magical lipstick that once applied, wouldn't budge. Being the nice person she was, she was more than happy to oblige their request. 

Krista shook her head to herself and sighed. What her sister wasn't quite grasping was the fact that this "relationship" of sorts wasn't all just fun and games. On the surface, that's how it appeared, but that wasn't the case at all. It had the potential to be quite dangerous. She was American after all, and while everything was going smoothly for now, it took just one slip for Hans to turn on her and send her whole operation into the ground. She was enjoying it, but there was still that part of her deep down that knew that she had to practice the utmost care so that she wouldn't end up... ya know... dead. Or in the hands of the Gestapo, which was the more likely of the two dreadful options.

When she tired of standing at the bar, she found herself alone with an empty glass sitting in a chair at an elegantly decorated table, and she was beginning to grow bored. A waiter came around with a metal tray and retrieved her empty glass from her after she plucked the cherry from the bottom of it. That was always the best part of a Manhattan, because by the time you finished the drink, the cherry had absorbed a fair amount of whiskey and had such an amazing flavor.

"Krista, it's nice to see you again." She looked up, being snapped out of her daze. It was Major Hellstrom.

"Oh hi," she said, smiling. 

"Is everything alright? You look upset," he said, his eyebrows knitting in concern.

After the night they all had dinner together, Krista knew that Hellstrom had to be cautious when speaking to her. "I'm alright," she answered.

He sat beside her, and she found herself scanning the room to make sure that Hans wasn't around to see him do so. It wasn't that she was scared of Hans, but she just simply wasn't in the mood to endure an interrogation about her conversing with the man that had been told to stay away from her "If you don't mind me asking, how'd you end up with Landa?"

She had to calculate her words before speaking. She shrugged. "I don't know. It just... happened I guess."

He pursed his lips and shook his head. "You seem like an amazing girl. You deserve much better than him." 

She found herself stunned. How was she supposed to respond to that? She looked over to him, and he had a serious expression on his face which was worrying because she didn't know exactly where he was going with what he was saying. She found herself with the inability to answer, so she just sat there, looking at him blankly.

"When things fall apart between the two of you, come find me," he told her with a smile before he stood up and walked away.

God she hoped Hans didn't see them engaged in a polite conversation because who knows what he'd do to poor Dieter, and she definitely didn't want to be around to witness it.

"What were you two talking about?" she heard from behind her. Shit. He did see Dieter with her. Oops?

"Nothing. He just said it was good to see me again." Her heart began to race because she knew she was likely about to say something she had no business of saying. "I heard what you said to him the other night. You don't have to be protective of me."

She turned and looked up to him through her long lashes. He seemed speechless. "You're mine and I'm not going to let anyone or anything to take you away from me." He said to her, a strange darkness coloring his eyes.

This conversation certainly went south quickly, and she felt that she was entering a dark and potentially treacherous territory. Had she already gotten herself tangled and twisted way too deep into this complicated and partially fabricated relationship with Landa? Every moment she stayed silent, she knew she seemed increasingly suspicious. "Look, I'm not... your property or anything like that. That's not what I'm looking for with this."

He looked at her, dumbfounded. Was he accustomed to women handing themselves over to him to be his possession? She knew she sure as hell wasn't going to be one of those women. She was her own person and she wasn't about to be someone else's property. However, if that's what he wanted in bed, that's where she would allow herself to make an exception. What happened behind closed doors was no one's business but their own.

Finally, he formulated a reply. "I apologize for that implication. But Major Hellstrom isn't exactly who he makes himself out to be."

She'd had an opportunity to talk to him several days prior, and he seemed like a genuinely nice guy. It was becoming clear that has certainly did feel some sort of envy toward the major and if she were to guess, it was because Dieter was much younger than he was, and it intimidated him. It was like he was intimidated because he felt that Dieter was a more ideal match for Krista. It seemed like Hans was worried about losing her to him.

"Now that we have that out of the way, would you like to dance?" He asked.

Krista wasn't one to ballroom dance. She'd taken one class when she was ten, and it was because her aunt thought it would be a fun bonding experience. She preferred to dance like an idiot at either a rave or a bomb ass house party. This wasn't her scene to say the least. "No thanks. I don't really dance."

"I'll teach you," he said, offering her his hand. She took it and obediently followed him.

Ballroom dancing always looked so graceful, and she had always assumed that it would be difficult to achieve that level of grace. However, surprisingly, it wasn't nearly as complicated as she had anticipated. She still wasn't sold, but she was living for the way her Alexander McQueen dress billowed and flowed with every movement. She was also grateful that the floor was smooth and crack free, because she had a feeling that one misstep in her thin stiletto heels would send her flying to the floor without an apology.

The mass of people on the dancefloor parted when the two of them stepped onto it, and began to clap. It was beginning to feel like they were the 'couple' of the evening. Krista looked around at the smiling men and women that surrounded them and found herself smiling in return. They were the center of attention yet again, and all eyes were on them as they started to slowly and gracefully dance.

By the time they'd finished dancing and the attendance began to thin out, Krista was exhausted, and muscles she didn't even know she had were nearly screaming at her because they wanted to rest. She made her way over to the bar one last time, and grabbed one last Manhattan. "For being someone that doesn't dance, you did a nice job," Hans said as he stood behind her. 

"Thanks," she responded, a slight pink color touching her cheeks, likely visible even under her full coverage foundation and glimmering highlight. They took a seat while she sipped her final drink of the night. 

He eyed her silently. "You look absolutely stunning tonight," he finally said, a dreamy look of want in his eyes. "And I'm glad you came with me."

She kind of agreed. She was kind of glad she came, as it gave her an excuse to dress up like she was attending a senior prom, which she didn't go to because she thought it was a waste of money. "I'm glad I came with," she said before slamming the rest of her drink and picking up the cherry from the bottom. Seductively, she placed the whiskey saturated cherry on her tongue before pulling it into her mouth with her lips all while never allowing her gaze to waver from his.

He was enjoying it. She could tell. And she loved what she was able to do to him so easily. Had they been alone, she was almost certain that the simple gesture would spur him to throw her on the table and have his way with her. "I think we should go," she purred in French before standing up.

Hans followed suit and put his arm around her waist. "I couldn't have said it better myself," he said in agreement.


	5. The Mistress is Born

March 27th, 1943; Saturday Night

Krista's heart was pounding loudly in her ears as she and Hans stumbled in through the front door of his house. They barely made it inside before hands began to wander and lips collided with both want and passion. Breathing heavily, she found herself pinned up against the front door, one of his hands firmly on her hip, the other in her hair. "I've been thinking about this since the moment I saw you tonight," he admitted before pulling her away from the door and leading her over to the kitchen table. 

In a frenzy of aggressive kisses, she could feel him beginning to tug at her gown. She forced herself away, her face flushed. "If you rip this dress, I'll kill you," she told him seriously. She turned around and pulled all of her hair around to the front of her body. He ran his hands over the jewels on the lace panel on her back before leaning into her back and brushing his lips gently over the back of her neck. She allowed her eyes to close at the soft touch of his lips, and smiled to herself. Abruptly, he stopped, and closed his index finger and thumb gingerly around the small black zipper at the base of her neck. Gently, he pulled the zipper down until it stopped which allowed her to wriggle free of it. She let it fall into a pile on the floor, and she turned around again to stand nearly completely nude before him, clad in only a lacy thong.

He wasted no time in laying her flat down onto the table she was standing in front of, his left hand trailing over the expanse of bare skin that had been exposed. She sat up, placing both hands on his chest and pushed him back enough so that she could plant one heeled foot directly in the middle of his chest. "Sit down," she finally said with a devilish grin. 

"What for?" he asked, seeming confused and curious at the same time. He looked down at her foot on his chest before she pushed him backward but not too forcefully.

She hopped off the table and pulled a chair out from underneath it. Guiding him by the shoulders, she moved him to the chair and forcefully pushed him down into it. "That wasn't so hard, was it?" she singsonged, beginning to slowly circle around him before stopping behind him. She rested her hands atop his shoulders and leaned down so that her lips were teasingly brushing the shell of his ear. "Are you comfortable, colonel?" she purred, moving down to his neck and dropping a single kiss to his skin.

"I am," he answered simply.

"Good," she replied, finally making her way back to the front of him. Smirking, she straddled him on the chair, and slowly began to work at unbuttoning his uniform jacket. Her plan was to keep this anticipation burning for as long as possible so that the end result would be nothing short of incredible. Hans made an attempt to place his hands on her hips, and she stopped him. "Don't touch," she said impishly as she helped him free of his jacket. Reluctantly, he let his hands drop back down to his sides, but his eyes never moved from Krista's nearly naked form atop him. 

She leaned forward, gently digging her nails into his skin as she allowed their lips to meet. She kissed him deeply, raking her nails down his chest, leaving red marks in their wake. He groaned, finally deciding to ignore her "don't touch" rule. Hans swiftly lifted her up and moved her back to the table. She sat straight up, crossing her legs in the most lady like fashion she could manage as she watched him shrug off his shirt. She bit her lip as she watched him, an animalistic look in her eyes. She beckoned him forward, parting her legs so he could squeeze his body between them. She pressed her bare chest to his and leaned close to his ear. "Don't you want me, colonel?" she asked him as innocently as she could.

"Of course," he said, stepping back from her and shedding both his pants and his boxers. He slowly slid her skimpy panties down her long legs and tossed them onto the floor along with her dress. Krista adjusted her legs to pull her heels off, but he stopped her. "No, my dear, leave those on," he smirked, brushing his fingers over her smooth skin as he dropped down to his knees and pulled her to the edge of the table. He lifted her legs up to rest on his shoulders. 

When he moved his lips slowly up her inner thigh, she shivered. A few short moments later, she could feel his lips close around her clit, and she clasped a hand over her mouth to keep herself quiet. She wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of affecting her so wildly just yet. She dug her heels into his back and tried her best to keep her hips from wriggling beneath him. She propped herself up on her left elbow, which allowed her right hand free to move straight to his hair and grip it. Her head fell back, her long hair spilling onto the table. A soft moan escaped her lips, and he stood up without a word and pressed his lips urgently to hers as if he needed to touch to survive.

Without breaking the connection of their lips, he slowly slid inside her, causing Krista to gasp audibly. She could feel him smirk into their kiss. She hooked one leg around his hips to urge him closer, and she curled her arms around his neck tightly. She dug her nails into his back so harshly she thought for sure that she was going to draw blood. "I like that," he murmured, catching her bottom lip between his teeth.

To her, it seemed an awful lot like permission to continue. She dug into his skin again, and drug a fresh set of marks over whatever she could reach. He groaned loudly, and began a quick but steady rhythm of thrusting that made Krista gasp for much needed breath. It felt so divine, she could hardly believe it. She'd be lying to herself if she hadn't fantasized about what it would be like to have an intimate encounter with him since the first time she met him, and the reality was so much better than anything her imagination had conjured. 

He tightly wrapped his arms around her back and moved her to the front door where he pressed her into it and quickly resumed the rhythm of his hips. She could already feel bruises forming on her ribcage in the places where his fingertips were digging in. She could only guess that was her payback for marking him up with her nails, and she had no problem with it.

Hans dropped his lips down to the base of her neck, and he began to nip and suck at the skin there. She was just hoping and praying that she was going to be able to conceal it the next morning, however, she could tell that the one hickey on her neck wasn't going to be the only one that she was going to have to hide; the night had barely begun. And besides, she could hardly protest because this was the type of sex she lived for.

"Take me to bed," she managed through her already ragged breathing. "Take me to bed, colonel," she repeated but in German. 

"As you wish," he replied, shifting her body so that he could carry her, her legs draped over one of his strong arms. Once they reached his bedroom, he dropped her to her feet, and unceremoniously bent her over the edge of the bed. He pushed her legs together so forcefully that her knees collided with each other, and it was such sweet pain. With firm hands, he grasped her hips and pushed into her again, and Krista buried her face into the satin bedspread to keep herself from crying out. He leaned forward, grabbing a handful of her hair and pulled her back flush up into his chest. "You're perfect," he growled in her ear before resuming his movements. 

She moaned loudly, and clutched his arm that was tightly over her breasts, effectively holding her against him. "Oh fuck," she breathed when she could feel him change angles. She'd slept with her previous boyfriends numerous times, but none of them seemed to be capable of what Hans was, and this was only the tip of the iceberg. He seemed to know exactly where to touch and what to do to in order to receive the responses he was yearning for. She was truly trying her best to not let the passion overtake her, but she quickly found that it was useless. She was under his spell, and that's right where he wanted her... fully under his control and at his mercy.

After a few more powerful thrusts, he released her, and she fell down onto the bed. All of a sudden, he slowed his movements, and she could hear him breathing heavily. He was seeing stars already, and so was she. She truly was amazing, and he didn't want this to end. He'd slept with many women, but there was something about Krista that was just so different. Maybe it was one of those "lady in the streets but a freak in the bed" situations. She was intelligent, beautiful, and classy, but now that he had her right where he wanted her, he could tell there was something that set her apart from the others. She wasn't afraid to take control, and that was something he's never experienced. Most women would willingly hand their bodies over to him and allow him to do as he pleased.

Gently, he ran his hands from her shoulder blades down to the small of her back, and began kneading into her skin in massaging motions. That was a whole other type of pleasure. He slowed his movements considerably, and he abruptly stopped, his cock throbbing inside her as he came.

His chest was heaving as he collapsed on the bed beside her. She finally shed her heels and dropped them on the floor. Silently, she lay down and propped herself up on her elbow. As his breathing began to slow, he turned to her, his face fully glazed over in sheer euphoria. "I know I've said it before, but I'll say it again... You're incredible," he said, a stupid smile touching his lips.

Unsure of exactly, how to react, she offered a simple, "thank you", and returned the smile. "Do you uh... want me to stay? Or would you rather me go home?" she asked, honestly not positive of what he was going to tell her.

"I'd like for you to stay, if you'd be willing," he said, pulling her into his side. She nuzzled her head under his chin and allowed her eyes to flutter closed. "You mean more to me than I think you realize."

Oh god. She'd gotten herself in too deep already. This wasn't happening... it couldn't be. "I told you not to get attached to me."

Hans pressed a finger to her lips, effectively quieting her speech. "Shhh... I know what you said. But how can I help it?" Krista found herself unable to form a response. She didn't even know how to react to that. He allowed his fingertips to ghost along her ribs which caused her to shiver as he spoke again. "I wanted to ask you something, actually." He inhaled and exhaled deeply before proceeding. "I would like you to be my mistress."

Krista snorted, an amused smile playing on her lips. She sat up, their eyes meeting. "Your mistress? So you still want me to be your fake Austrian girlfriend?" He clearly wasn't amused as she was, and her smile began to falter. "Oh shit, you're serious... Look, I'm sorry..." Had Krista realized that he wasn't joking, she wouldn't have reacted as she did. 

Hans stood up from the bed, and she immediately felt absolutely dreadful. "Maybe you should go."

Upsetting him wasn't her intention, and she was regretting her reaction big time. She stood up quickly and reached for his arm reassuringly. "I'm sorry," she repeated. "I just... I want you to think about how surprising it is to be asked something like that. I mean, I didn't expect it, and it caught me off guard... I didn't mean to laugh at you, and I feel really bad about that." She took a deep breath. "I just want to be clear about something. I'll do it. But I'm not interested in any sort of relationship further than that, got it?"

"That's fair," he said, dropping a tender kiss to her cheek.

"Besides, I kind of think I like the title of 'Colonel Landa's mistress'. It has a ring to it." She bit her lip through a smile when he finally looked back to her. 

"I like it too," he agreed, catching her lips in a deep, lustful kiss. "It suits you," he added, taking her hand and tugging her back into bed with him.

They lay down beneath the smooth satin sheets, utterly relaxed. Her eyes fell to his chest, and she noticed the red marks left behind from her nails. She traced a fingertip over them, the memories of not so long ago flooding back to her. "I'm sorry I scratched you," she said finally, quietly laughing. 

"Don't be. I enjoyed it. I've never been with a woman quite as aggressive as you."

"You think I'm aggressive?!" She asked, slightly shocked.

"Yes. Not too unlike myself. Which makes you being my mistress just that much more fun." They weren't too different from each other, she realized. Maybe being Colonel Landa's mistress would be fun after all, even though she wasn't fully positive of what it would entail.

"What am I getting myself into?" she asked seriously, not know precisely what was in store in her near future.

He rolled onto his side to look at her. "What do you think you're getting yourself into?" He countered as he brushed his fingers through her now severely tangled hair.

"I don't know. That's why I'm asking you," she laughed softly, blushing as he tenderly combed through her hair.

His eyes fell to the dark bruise that had formed at the base of her throat and grinned a crooked grin. "Well, I can tell you this. I won't make you regret it." He gently touched the hickey and looked up to catch her eyes. "Does this hurt?" He asked, almost genuinely concerned.

She shook her head although, truth be told, it did feel a wee bit sore. "Not at all. And between you and me, I'll let you mark me up as much as you want."

"Likewise," he answered before placing his lips gently over the hickey he had left on her earlier and kissing it as if it were going to make it disappear.

March 28th, 1943; Sunday

The next morning came sooner than Krista had anticipated. When she discovered that she had been left alone in the bed, she stretched out spread eagle and winced at the soreness of her body. He'd really done a number on her. "Jesus," she muttered to herself, lying still while blankly staring at the ceiling. "Fucking hell," she breathed as she forced herself up to roll off the bed. Once her feet hit the cold floor and she stood, she felt just as sore as she had been following her months of practice for all-star cheerleading competitions while she was in high school. She took a single step forward, and cursed when she felt the sharp edge of a Louboutin heel dig into the arch of her foot. She pressed her lips together and let out a breath through her nose. Who would have thought that such a spindly heel could induce so much pain? It was like stepping flat footed on a Lego, but not quite as bad. She rubbed the bottom of her foot for a moment before dropping it back down to the floor.

Before exiting the bedroom, she noticed a black satin robe lying on the bed, which she picked up and slipped over her bare skin. She tied the strap around her waist, and smoothed her hands down her front before leaving the room. 

The aroma of coffee filled the house, and Krista closed her eyes and inhaled deeply. "Morning," she said once she made it to the kitchen table where Hans was sitting, a cup of coffee sitting before him. 

"Good morning, beautiful," he said, smiling as his eyes fell to her body which was covered in merely a thin layer of satin. "How did you sleep?"

"Actually, great. It was probably the best sleep I've had in a long time." She sat down opposite him, resting her elbows on the table. "I'm sore as hell."

He smirked at her statement. "You'll have to get used to it."

He slid his cup across the table to her, and she raised it to her lips to take a sip. She closed her eyes as the warmth of the liquid washed over her insides. "What are you implying, colonel?" she asked, taking one last sip then sliding the cup back across the table.

"Exactly what you think I'm implying." 

"Do I have your word?" she asked, quirking a brow.

He placed his hand over his heart, and smiled to her. "Cross my heart."

"That's what I was hoping to hear." Krista stood up then and yawned. "I should probably go home. Where's my dress at?" she asked, looking around, slightly alarmed when she didn't see it lying in a heap on the floor where it had been left. Not to mention, as much as she paid for it, she couldn't believe she would allow it to be haphazardly thrown to the floor anyway.

"Over on the coffee table, but you know you could just stay, don't you? I'm not going to make you leave. Do you not feel welcome here?" He seemed concerned with her rash decision to bolt.

"I do, I just have a lot to do today," she lied, crossing the room over to the coffee table. She shed the robe, and slipped her panties back on. She could tell he was watching her, and she kind of liked it. It didn't feel nearly as awkward as she expected it to. She wriggled her way back into the form fitting Alexander McQueen gown. "Could you zip me up?" She asked while she walked back over to where he was sitting. She swept her now completely gnarled hair over one shoulder and turned her back to him. 

He slowly zipped up the dress, and dropped his lips to the back of her neck which sent goosebumps erupting over her arms. "It's taking all I have to not take you right here, right now," he whispered in German into her ear, and her eyes automatically fell closed at the soothing sound of his voice. 

She spun around, now face to face with him. "There will be other times," she said smoothly.

"Promise?" he asked, drawing her close.

"I promise," she replied, taking the initiative to catch his lips with her own. For a moment their lips moved together in perfect tandem. She pulled away and retreated to the bedroom to grab her heels. When she returned to the front of the house, she picked her small beaded clutch then leaned against the counter, struggling to slide her heels on due to the movement restrictions from the tight fabric of her dress. The only thing running through her mind at that moment was 'Damn, I really hope he didn't go open this up and see my phone in it' because that would certainly raise some suspicions that she couldn't quite answer to. 

"Would you like me to take you home?" He asked, reaching for her arm to steady her as she attempted to put her heels on.

"That's okay, I can walk. The hotel's not far." To her, it didn't seem far. A few miles maybe? Or in Europe... kilometers. She was quite accustomed to walking long distances in heels when she spent time in Chicago with Sydney, so this didn't feel so different.

"It's nearly five kilometers. Are you sure?"

She nodded. "I like walking," she said, smiling and shaking her hair from her eyes. "I'll be okay."

He walked her to the front door, and pulled her in for one final kiss before opening it up. "I'll see you soon?"

"Well yeah. I don't think I'd be able to stay away from you for too long. You'd find a way to suck me back in." 

"You're right about that. I'll see you soon, beautiful," he said before she exited the house and made her way down to the street.

She had quite a long walk ahead of her, which meant plenty of alone time to reflect on the decisions she had made as of late. Many of which she'd look back at in a few years and wonder where exactly she'd fucked up. 

The cobblestone streets were proving rather difficult to walk on in such slender heels, so about half way into her journey, she kicked them off and carried them until she found herself at the doorstep of a small restaurant. She entered, and found a bathroom toward the back where she scrubbed the day old makeup from her face and tied her hair up into a tight bun atop her head. She looked at the hickey on her neck in the mirror and sighed deeply. It was right out in the open, and there was absolutely no way to cover it up without something like a scarf or Tarte Shape Tape concealer. However, until it healed, she'd have a pleasant reminder of the night she'd shared with Hans. Always a silver lining.

She thanked the host of the restaurant for so graciously allowing her to wash up in the bathroom, and headed back on her way. As she continued to walk, she heard footsteps closing in behind her. "Krista?"

"Oh hey," she said, turning around to see Dieter Hellstom behind her. 

"You look like you had a rough night." His eyes quickly fell to the black and blue mark on her neck before shifting back up to meet her eyes. She inwardly laughed. He didn't know the half of it. "Where are you headed?"

"Home. Well, the Saint James," she answered simply, beginning to walk again.

"Oh," he scoffed and shook his head. "Landa couldn't have had his driver take you?" he sneered, rolling his eyes.

She suddenly felt the need to defend Hans, but she felt that she didn't know the man well enough to do so. "I wanted to walk." She shrugged.

"Would you like me to walk you home? It's not safe for a woman as beautiful as you to be alone." And there was that unwarranted flattery again. 

"That's alright. I only have a kilometer or so." It was her first instinct to say 'mile' but had she said that, he would have known that instant that she wasn't actually from Austria like she had claimed. She was actually rather surprised that he, or anyone else she had met recently, hadn't seen through her phony accent yet.

"You should be careful with him, you know." 

She stopped dead in her tracks and turned to face him. "Why's that?" she asked him curiously.

"Let's just say that his relationships don't typically end well. In fact, I would almost be willing to bet that you're not the only woman that he's sleeping with." Krista swallowed hard and found herself at a loss for words. "He's quite the womanizer. He always has been." Dieter then offered her a polite smile. "Anyway, if you ever change your mind and want to be with a real man, you know where to find me." He turned on his heel without another word and began walking the opposite direction. 

"No I don't," she muttered under her breath once he was positively out of earshot, and rolled her eyes. How she kept running into major Hellstrom was awfully odd, and she wished she could come up with an explanation for it, but she felt that she'd end up with a brain cramp if she were to attempt to figure it out.

Once she found herself on the home stretch to the hotel, a heap of discombobulated thoughts raced through her brain unwillingly. Was Landa really the womanizer that Dieter claimed he was? Or was he merely saying that because he's rather have her on his arm instead of Landa's? But most importantly, she had agreed to being Landa's mistress, or as she liked to think of it, his 'secret fake Austrian girlfriend'. Now that she had some time to really rack her brain, she was unsure of what she had agreed to. She was certain that he wasn't married, so clearly she wasn't 'the other woman'... or was she? Perhaps there were some minor details that were intentionally being left out, and Krista didn't feel that she had the right to inquire about them. Regardless, her master plan was still to find her cousin, and she had just hatched the idea to try to use Hans to get what she was after. But now she had a curveball thrown at her which could either be a blessing in disguise or a huge disaster; she was the colonel's mistress.


	6. Complicated

April 2nd, 1943; Friday

The sun finally decided to bless Paris with its presence, and the exceptionally bright rays flooding through the multitude of windows in Krista's Saint James penthouse suite. The sunlight warmed the room up to a temperature that felt slightly too warm to be comfortable, even though it was still early spring. She opened the largest window in the room as well as the sliding glass door that led to the balcony with the ideal view of both the Seine River and the Eiffel Tower.

With the little remaining money she had remaining in her possession, she decided to head out to find a good restaurant to grab some mid-evening food. What she really wanted was a greasy pepperoni pizza and an order of fried mushrooms from her local pizza shop 'Rizzo's', but she would have to settle for something else.

She passed by many restaurants and cafés, but none of them seemed very appealing to her stomach's desires. She wasn't in the mood for pastries and coffee, nor for calf brains. Fuck French food. 

Her stomach growled when she finally stumbled upon a deli a few blocks away from the Eiffel Tower and situated along the river. It was small and quaint with the option of either indoor or outdoor seating. The tables outside were surrounded by an ornate metal fence, while the indoor seating was blessed with several overhead fans. 

After pondering for longer than she'd like to have, she finally settled on the cook's recommendation and sat down in a cozy corner lit by dim overhead lights and candles.

It was rather pleasant to finally have a moment to share with no one but herself for the first time in quite a few days. She glanced around the quaint deli at the books that lined all of the walls. Turning around in the booth she was seated comfortably in, her eyes fell on a battered and aged copy of Jane Eyre, which she delved into without hesitation.

After every paragraph or so, she'd take a bite of the massive roast beef sandwich she'd been served, then would continue to read. About ten pages or so in, she felt that the soup that had accompanied the sandwich had reached a consumable temperature and she took a heaping spoonful of perfectly seasoned chicken and broth into her mouth. 'Damn, that's good', she thought to herself, taking another spoonful. She held the spoon in her mouth for a moment, almost as if she were trying to remove the entirety of the flavor that remained on it. 

Fully engrossed in the novel, she hadn't realized that she'd been sitting there for nearly a half hour already. Krista flipped the book over to mark her spot, and jumped when she noticed that she had company sitting across from her. "Shit, Dieter," she muttered, her heart gradually returning to its resting rhythm once she calmed down from her sudden scare. "How do you keep running into me?" she asked in German, still trying to maintain her façade of Landa's Austrian girlfriend.

He simply shrugged and smiled to her. For being as dangerous and arrogant as he was, he was kind to her which could only mean one of two things. Scenario A: His goal was to butter her up and get on her good side before killing her swiftly and easily, or scenario B: he was genuinely a nice, lovable person beneath his Gestapo Major rank. "I can't tell you that."

She laughed softly, and took another spoonful of her soup. 

"How is it?" he asked curiously as he watched her eat, which was an awkward experience.

"It's good. But I liked the smoked sausage you made better. How'd you learn to cook so well, by the way?" She asked him, finally deciding to close the book that sat overturned on the table, because she had come to the conclusion that she wasn't going to be reading any more of it. 

"My mother taught me when I was young, and I just picked it up very quickly." He answered. He gestured to a passing waiter and ordered simply a glass of ice water, which confirmed Krista's hunch that her solitary moment had drawn to a close. At least she was able to enjoy it while it lasted.

Close to an hour and a half had past, and Krista still found herself sitting opposite the young major, sincerely enjoying his company, just as she had before. It was a nice change of pace to be able to have a friendly conversation with a man that didn't involve blatant flirting and talk about sexual prospects. 

The owner of the deli came by the booth a short while later to tell the pair that they were about to close, and that they needed to vacate the premises. If she were being honest, she enjoyed the company of Hans, but she was finding that Dieter, who was likely much closer to her own age, was more relatable. 

They exited the deli, and began a slow walk to nowhere in particular. Cautiously, she glanced around them every so often, just on the off chance there would happen to be a German officer near them that would report back to Landa that she'd been seen with Dieter. Hans had clearly expressed his distaste for the way Dieter seemed to act around her because he felt that he would try to make a move on his mistress, and after spending time with him, she was beginning to think that he had a reason for concern. Although not outwardly saying that he had an interest in her, he seemed to be nonchalantly insinuating it.

"Are you okay? You seem nervous." He pointed out, taking note of her somewhat erratic behavior.

"I'm fine. I just don't want the fact that I'm with you right now to get back to Landa. He's not your biggest fan because of me." She told him honestly, nervously chewing at the inside of her lip. Hans would probably fly off the handle if he found out, even though Krista was merely his mistress. In her eyes, she was still free to do what she pleased, and spend time with whoever she pleased, and Hans the same. They weren't tethered to each other in a relationship, so there was no call to act as such. 

"Why are you worried about that?" he asked curiously as he pulled out a metal tin with cigarettes, promptly placing one between his lips and lighting it up.

She watched him as he did it then formulated a response. "I don't know, I just want him to be upset and take it out on either of us."

He shook his head, taking a long drag from his lit cigarette. "I'm not worried about him."

Landa was his superior, He should probably be worried about potential consequences, but who was she to judge? "No?" she asked, her tone slightly amused.

He shook his head again. "The worst he'll do is tell me to stay away from you again. He's not as intimidating as most people think he is." The approached the same bench that she and Landa hat sat on the night he made his initial advances, and she felt a strange sort of confliction inside of her. It was odd that she felt as if she had to choose between two men that both had an interest in her. "Would you like to sit?" He asked her, gesturing toward the bench. 

She swallowed and nodded. "Sure." Once they were both seated, she plucked his cigarette from between his lips, and placed it between her own. Krista took a long drag from it before handing it back to him. He laughed at her action, his eyes trained on her every move. 

The smoke from his cigarette drifted toward her with his next drag as a gentle breeze carried it. "I'd like to get to know you better," he stated point blank, turning to face her.

She had an inkling that that was coming, yet she had not prepared for it. "Before you say that, I need to tell you something." She began to nervously pick at her nail polish like she always did when she was about to say something risky, but this time, it had to possibility to get her killed. Her stomach rose up into her throat, and her heart pounded almost painfully against her ribcage. "I'm... Not Austrian. Well, I'm not from Austria." She said in English as she closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, waiting for the cold barrel of a pistol to be pressed into her temple.

"I know," he replied also in English, his gaze unwavering.

Shocked, she stared at him, her mouth agape for what felt like an eternity. How did he know? Was she really that bad at speaking German? Finally, her brain unscrambled, and she could speak. "What do you mean you know?"

"Your accent is atrocious," he said, laughing softly. Krista swatted at his shoulder which only made him laugh more.

"Hey, I'm from Chicago, okay? I tried my best," she admitted, rolling her eyes. She was actually quite thankful that she could speak English at this point, because she found out quickly that constantly speaking German was getting exhausting.

"Does Landa know you're American?"

She sighed, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. "Yeah."

"And?"

"I don't know. It didn't seem to be a problem. I mean, I'm not dead yet," she said with a slight laugh. "But I gotta ask. Why didn't you kill me when you figured it out?" After the words left her lips, she almost wished she hadn't asked, because she didn't know that she really wanted to hear the answer.

Dieter leaned back, lacing his fingers together behind his head. "Landa told me not to."

That wasn't what she wanted to hear, but now it couldn't be unheard. She let it sink in for a second. "Would you have if he hadn't told you not to?"

He shook his head and looked over to her again. "If I'm being honest, no. You're different from the other American girls I've met. Not to mention, I'm very much attracted to you."

She felt flattered to say the least, and a pink hue rose to her cheeks. "Don't let Landa hear you say that." 

"If you don't mind me asking, why are you with him?" he asked, abruptly altering the subject. 

She was slightly taken aback, and was unsure of exactly how to reply. "I don't know," was the best thing she could come up with without much thought.

"What do you mean you don't know? Is it the money?" He asked, raising himself back up to a seated position.

"No," she said. "Not all women are after money."

"I suppose you're right. So if it's not money, it must be the sex." He almost sounded disgusted as if he were envious toward Hans.

He wasn't fully wrong, that was part of it. The sex was great if she were being fully truthful, the best she'd ever had in fact. "I mean, kind of. I enjoy sex... And I don't think that makes me a slut."

"I don't think it does either," he agreed, catching her eyes with his and sharing an intense gaze for quite some time.

She poked him in the shoulder in an attempt to emphasize her words. "But don't get any ideas." 

He threw his hands up in defeat. "Okay, I won't. But when I said to be careful with Landa, I meant it."

"Would you care to elaborate?" she asked. He mentioned that she should exercise caution with him, but never offered any further explanation, which was slightly troubling.

He paused for a moment before he began to speak, as if he were aligning his thoughts in his head. "I've been working alongside him for close to three years now, and I've seen how he is with his women. Everything will start great. He'll take them to dinner, buy them jewelry and clothes and everything women like."

"Like cars and guns?" she interjected with an amused grin.

"Do women like cars and guns?" he asked, slightly confused.

Krista shrugged. "Well, I do."

"I knew there was something strange about you," he teased before continuing. "He'll woo them with extravagant meals and lavish gifts, then use them for a while until he tires of them. He'll get rid of them and move onto the next. And what surprised me about you is that he usually goes for the floozy types. And I can clearly tell that you are the polar opposite of that. You're more intelligent than his usual picks."

Krista sat for a moment, trying to let her brain catch up and absorb everything he had just told her. Was that really going to be her fate? He'd use her until he was bored with her and move onto the next girl that crosses his path? Dieter obviously knew Landa's ways better than she did, so she had absolutely no reason to not believe him, but for some reason, she still felt a tiny sliver of denial. After all, Landa had told her she was different from the rest. But did he really just mean that she was different because she wasn't some random floozy off the street? Jesus, what a fuckboy.

Knowing what she knew now, her view of Landa had certainly shifted, but she couldn't act like she knew what his motives were while she was in his company. "You're too pretty to be with him anyway." He offered her a genuine smile, and she reciprocated it.

Now that she had been up close and personal with Dieter, she realized that he was more adorable than hot, and he had this sort of boyish charm to him that she found quite likeable. "I could treat you better than he can."

Krista laughed, shaking her head. "You're not going to stop until you get the girl, are you?"

"No I'm not," he told her honestly.

"You don't even know me though. What if I'm psychotic or something?"

"Isn't that the point of getting to know someone?" He countered, tilting his head to the side slightly.

He was right. That was kind of the point of saying you'd like to get to know someone. "You're right. And I'm not psycho, by the way."

He snorted and shifted his seated position slightly to face her better. He lifted a hand to gently pull down the neckline of the blouse she was wearing and stopped once the still darkening bruise on her neck was exposed. She could feel his nimble fingertips brush over her collar bone, and it sent chills down her spine. She looked down out of habit, although she knew full and well that she couldn't see it. "I'm jealous," he said quietly, almost too quietly for her to hear as if he didn't really intend to vocalize what he was thinking.

"Why?" she asked, her voice colored by an amused tone.

"Because I didn't do this to you." He stared at it for a moment longer before removing his fingers and adjusting her blouse back to its previous placement. "But one day, you'll come to your senses, and I'll get my chance."

She could feel a slight pang of guilt inside, and it was likely due to the fact that Dieter appeared to have a small crush on her, for lack of a better term. A mark on her skin from another man wasn't something she felt that she should be feeling guilty for. He was making such an honest and full hearted attempt to sway her away from Landa's gentlemanly charm, and she admired that. He was persistent, that was for sure. She also wondered if he was truly serious about wanting her as bad as he was letting on.

Dieter looked at his watch and sighed. "It's getting late. I should probably get you home. Unless... you'd like to join me instead?" he asked hopefully. 

She followed suit after he stood up, and brushed off imaginary dirt from the skirt she was wearing after straightening it out. "As much as I'd like to, I can't." She was partly sad because she was enjoying his company so much, but if she chose to stay the night with Dieter, Landa would undoubtedly find out and lose his shit.

Taking a chance, he took a step closer to her and cradled the back of her head with his hand and pressed his warm lips to hers. Regardless of how soft his lips felt against hers and how sweet they tasted, she pulled away and took a step back, placing a small amount of space between them. "Dieter, I can't do this." She said, her lips still tingling from the contact. She avoided his eyes and looked down.

"I promise you that Landa will never know." He tipped her chin up so that their eyes could meet. 

Quickly, she found herself lost in beautiful icy blue, and she didn't want to look away. She wanted to believe him when he said that Hans would never know, but with his position so high in the SS, he could found out anything he wanted to about anything he wanted to. "I want to believe you. I really do."

He dropped his hand down to his side. "Do you love him?"

His words cut into her in a way they most definitely shouldn't have. She didn't love Hans, and she didn't think she ever would. She liked him, sure. But love? She'd learned her lesson about love and relationships years ago, and she wasn't about to revisit that painful heartbreak. "No."

Dieter nodded, and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek. She hated to see him feel rejected because that wasn't her intention, but it was what it was. "Well, I look forward to seeing you very soon. Think about me," he told her with a mischievous wink.

Without another word, he turned away from her, and began down the street.

Nervously, she began to make her way back to her hotel room and she suddenly wished that she had snagged a cigarette from Dieter before they had parted ways. Maybe it would have calmed her restless mind down. It seemed to her that every day she drifted further away from her goal to find her cousin, and with the precarious place she'd found herself all but trapped in, she wanted nothing more than to throw in the towel and go home and carry on life as usual. She was actually beginning to miss the classic and muscle restoration shop she owned and worked at, and she was craving the feel of a perfectly sculpted quarter panel beneath her touch.

She had the mindset that finding Jonas would be an in and out of Paris ordeal, but now she realized just how mistaken she had been. Was she in over her head yet, though? Not quite, but she was teetering dangerously close to that point. However, if no more curveballs were thrown directly at her, she'd be able to pull through without a hitch. She now had to worry about being caught in between a colonel and a major, and the complexity of that hurt her brain.

Out of nowhere, Dieter Hellstrom had expressed his interest in her, after informing her of what her fate with Hans would likely be. She'd be used and dumped like a bottle of Mountain Dew that had been finished. She had agreed to be his mistress so she brought it upon herself, and she didn't really expect a different outcome. Hearing it from someone else somehow unsettled her.

For now though, she decided that the best course of action was to just ride it out and let whatever happen just... happen. Her life was about to become a shitshow, and there was nothing she could do to stop it.


	7. Diamonds Aren’t Forever

April 9th, 1943; Friday

"I'm going to the market to get some food. Would you like me to pick up anything for you?" Hans asked Krista politely as he pulled on his long leather coat.

She shook her head and stood up from the kitchen table, the coffee cup she had been drinking from in her hand. "No thanks," she answered as he took a handful of steps toward her, effectively closing the space between them. He brushed his thumb across her cheek before dropping his hand to her shoulder and leaning into her. He pressed his lips to hers for a long few seconds before pulling away.

"I'll be back soon," he said, quickly pecking her lips one last time.

"Don't be too long, colonel," she purred, flashing him a crooked grin. 

"I won't, beautiful," he said before walking out the door and closing it behind him.

She rolled her eyes, still not a fan of being called 'beautiful'. It was beginning to grow annoying. Krista crossed the room once she knew he was clear of the door and pulled the curtains back from the window just far enough for her to see clearly out of. Stealthily, she peeked through the glass, patiently waiting for the long sedan's departure.

Krista was now presented with a rare opportunity to have Landa's house all to herself. So what does she do? The thin anyone in search for answers would do. Snoop around. Especially when she had the wild assumption that Landa was Jonas's commanding officer. She didn't know for sure, but since the picture of him led her to Paris through the tree in her yard, she felt that the city was the best place to start.

There were many parts of the house that she'd never been in before, which made her hopeful that he would perhaps have a home office with something of value to her contained within it. 

His bedroom was located in the rear of the house, and a short hallway ran to the left of it. There were three doors along it. The first, a spare bedroom with a nicely made bed, much nicer than the guest room in Krista's house in fact. It was fitted with many ornate paintings and expensive looking décor, just as the rest of the house was. She mentally catalogued what she saw in her brain and thought maybe she'd use some of the ideas to spice up her guest room. She sighed heavily and closed the door, and moved onto the next. 

Just a second bathroom that looked like it hadn't been used in years. At least it had a spacious claw foot tub that she determined would be ideal for a relaxing bath loaded with bubbles.

Finally at the third room, she slowly opened the door in case it was booby-trapped or something. Maybe she'd just seen too many movies. Just what she was hoping to uncover. An office.

A large map of Germany hung on the wall across from the door and she found herself staring at it, all the countless, frustrating hours she spent learning the country's language on her own flooding back to her. She never really thought that she'd get any use out of learning German until she found herself in Paris during World War II. She quickly scanned the room and noticed it was relatively bare. Unlike his office in the Gestapo Headquarters, there was no large filing cabinet.

She plopped down in the plush leather chair that was tucked under the desk in the center of the small office and crossed her arms across her chest as if she were a pouting child. Krista leaned back and closed her eyes. She was feeling defeated at this point. When she leaned back forward, she noticed that the bottom left drawer was awfully large. She gave it a tug, and it refused to budge. "Goddammit," she mumbled.

The drawer didn't have a lock on it, so she found herself confused. Then she wondered if the desk was similar to the desk her father had in his office at the fire department he was employed at. She pulled the slim draw in the middle of the desk just so that it was slightly ajar, and tried the bottom drawer again.

Success.

Krista pulled the drawer open all the way, and began to look over the file folders that were contained inside it. They were arranged alphabetically by last name, and they appeared to be copies of personnel files of all men under Landa's command. She thumbed through them until she came across precisely what she was hoping to find.

Fischer, Jonas.

She quickly pulled it out of the drawer and laid it open on the desk top. She quickly skimmed through each page, searching for something that was typed rather than handwritten. When she finally came across something she could read, it was no more than his basic information. Name, height, weight, birthdate, rank held when transferred, etcetera. It wasn't much, but now she had a concrete starting point.

She ran out to the front of the house and pulled her phone from her purse which was relatively low on battery power. She'd have to slip back home and charge it soon. She snapped quick pictures of each page for future reference, and closed the file to place it back in its slot in the drawer.

She began closing the drawer when a thought crossed her mind. She pulled it open again, skipping past all the letters until she reached 'H'. She paused for a moment when her fingers finally brushed over his name. Hellstrom, Dieter. She hesitated when she felt her heart rate increase suddenly. She began to remove the file from the drawer when she could hear a knock at the front door. "Fuck," she said, shoving the file back down into the drawer and hastily closing the middle drawer. Maybe some things were better left unknown anyway. What she didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

She replaced the leather chair to its original position. Once at the door, she performed a brief onceover to assure that everything was exactly how it had been before she started going through things.

She quietly closed the door behind her, and smoothed her clothes out before answering the door. She recognized the man and woman on the other side from the gala immediately. "You must be looking for Standartenführer Landa?" she asked, smiling politely to the couple.

"Yes, is he here?" The man asked.

Krista shook her head and took a step to allow them inside the house, should they choose to enter. "He's out right now, but he shouldn't be too long. You're free to come in and wait for him if you'd like."

"Thank you, Krista, but that won't be necessary. We simply stopped by to invite the two of you to dinner tonight. " the woman said.

Krista offered her a smile. "I'm so sorry, but I seem to have forgotten your names," she said, even though it was a lie. She knew it was Kaltenbrunner, but she felt it necessary to play dumb. 

"That's not a problem. I'm sure Hans introduced you to a lot of people at the gala." Krista nodded, although she really wasn't introduced to many people while they were there, but she rolled with it anyway. "I'm Ernst, and this is my wife, Elisabeth." So that's what his wife's name was.

"Oh yes. Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner. I'm so sorry," she apologized. "I'll let Hans know that you stopped by when he gets back." 

Oh boy. Another night full of speaking German and nothing else. "That would be great. Thank you, Krista. Enjoy the rest of your day," Kaltenbrunner told her before taking his leave. 

She closed the door tightly and leaned back against it. 

Over the last week or so, Krista had found her staying with Hans more than by herself, which resulted in countless nice dinners which she was thankful for. French cuisine wasn't her favorite, however, it was free food, so it wasn't like she was going to say no. Paying for food was one of her least favorite things to pay for next to windshield wipers and toilet paper.

Since she was sure that Kaltenbrunner's dinner invitation would be accepted, she felt it necessary to clean herself up before she put on a fresh face of makeup. After taking her toiletries from the small suitcase she had brought with her, she made her way to the bathroom to fill up the tub with the hottest water she could stand.

With the tub finally at an acceptable water level, she climbed in and sighed at the relaxing heat of the water. For a moment, she simply lay there, allowing the warmth to fully envelop her like a warm blanket on a cold, snowy day.

She was careful to conceal her bottles of X Mondo shampoo and conditioner once she had used them so that they wouldn't be seen.

Krista leaned back fully in the tub, propping her feet up on the opposite edge. She closed her eyes and drifted off into a shallow but peaceful sleep.

She could feel his hands on her, slow but confident. He tugged her shirt over her head and pressed his bare chest into hers as their lips met. They slowly began to meld together, their tongues teasing each other's. She allowed herself to become hopelessly lost in him as one of her hands found its way into his hair. He pulled back for a second and held her striking emerald eyes in a deep gaze. Again, she found herself swimming in an endless sea of frosty blue, and she would be okay if she were to drown there. "He doesn't deserve you," Dieter breathed in flawless German, one hand moving to cup one of her flushed cheeks. He stroked her soft skin with his thumb and allowed it to graze gently over her bottom lip. "I could treat you so much better," he added. She tried to form a reply, but it was cut off by another deep kiss. His lips slowly traveled an invisible path across her jaw and down the side of her neck, stopping at her shoulder where he bit down with the perfect amount of pressure; Just enough to make her moan softly, not but enough to draw blood. Oh how she liked his ways. Maybe he really could treat her better. He pulled her close again, their bodies pressed together. They seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces, a type of perfection she'd never felt before. "Krista..." he breathed in her ear while her lips traveled up his throat, finally landing at his lips. Their kisses were intoxicating, and she couldn't get enough. "Krista..." he repeated again, kneading into her back with the tips of his fingers.

"Krista? Krista? Are you alright?" Hans asked, when he saw that she was clearly asleep in the bathtub.

She was rudely pulled from her fantastic dream, her heart beating angrily against her ribs. "Holy shit," she said, hurrying to cover her breasts with her arms. He'd seen her naked plenty of times, but it was still a habit to cover herself when startled. "Was I asleep?" She brushed her drenched hair away from her face and looked up at him. 

He softly laughed, reaching out to tuck a bit of her long hair behind her ear. "Yes."

"I didn't mean to fall asleep," she said, sitting up. She realized that the water she was in was now ice cold. It reminded her vaguely of the ice baths she had taken back in her track and field days.

"How long have you been in here? This water is freezing."

She let out a breath and blinked a few times. "I honestly have no idea." She pulled the plug to let the water out as he grabbed a towel for her. She stepped out, and his fingertips immediately met her wet skin. "Do you think now is the time for this?" she asked, a devious grin tugging at her lips.

Hans walked her back into the door and pinned her wrists in one hand above her head. His lips quickly found her skin, making their way slowly up her throat. He caught her bottom lip between his teeth, and her head fell back against the door. "Don't tease me, colonel," she told him in a teasing tone.

"I enjoy teasing you," her murmured into her lips before he allowed his free hand to slide down her still damp skin and between her legs. She arched her back off of the door and into him as he began to rub slow, soft circles over her clit. 

He began to add pressure as he looked up to catch her eyes, which were full of need all of a sudden. "P-please," she mumbled.

"Please what?" he teased, flashing her a devilish smirk.

"Please, Hans," she repeated, her breathing already growing ragged.

"Please what, Krista?" he growled, his face centimeters from hers.

Although she now knew what she knew about Hans because of Dieter, she couldn't help but fall under his spell every single time. She could already feel herself nearing the edge, and she wasn't sure how he could get her to that point so quickly with such little effort. Her eyebrows knitted together in desperation. "Please... Please make me come," she finally managed, struggling to get her wrists free from his grasp which only spurred him to tighten his grip. He removed his hand from between her legs and left her panting. 

"Not yet," he said. 

Finally he released her wrists, and made quick work of undoing his pants. With one hasty motion, he lifted her up and her legs instinctively wrapped around him in order to secure herself. He easily slid inside her with a loud moan and picked up a quick, rough rhythm of thrusting. She arched further off the door, and dug her nails into the back of his neck. 

He groaned into her skin and gently bit into it before lowering her down onto the floor. He settled between her legs and did not hesitate to resume his powerful thrusts. He spread her legs more and leaned down over her, pressing one hand to the floor near her head, the other slowly sliding down her stomach. His thumb brushed over her clit, and she jerked upward, whimpering quietly. Desperately, she bucked her hips upward, craving his touch. "Do you want to come?" he asked her in a falsely innocent voice, ceasing his movements abruptly. 

"Y-yes..." she forced out. 

"Yes what?" He teased.

"Yes colonel..." she tried.

"I'm sorry?"

"Ja, Standartenführer!" she cried out, her breath quickening.

"That's what I thought," he said, smirking to her before beginning quick, deliberate circles on her clit. He began to grind his hips into hers again. 

Stars began to close in in her peripheral, and she could feel her body beginning to tremble. Her heart felt as if it was about to beat straight out of her chest as she clamped a hand over her mouth the quiet herself. He moved her hand away from her mouth promptly. "I want to hear you," he panted.

His movements began to grow more erratic as she finally allowed herself to let go, his name falling from her lips in a loud cry. As a result, he moaned loudly, and released into her. He slowed his thrusting and collapsed atop her, his hot breath caressing her neck almost soothingly.

In a daze, she simply stared up at the white tiles on the ceiling, a stupid, pleased grin adorning her face. After about a minute of him uncomfortably lying on her, he finally rolled off of her and tucked himself back into his pants. "Wow," he mumbled, fully spent. 

He reached over for her, and she moved closer, her head falling to his chest. "I agree," she giggled, her eyes fluttering shut as she felt his hand brush over her still wet blonde hair. They simply laid there for a moment while their breathing slowly returned to normal. "Oh yeah, I should probably mention that Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner and his wife came by earlier to invite us to dinner tonight."

"Would you like to go?" he asked her, still petting over her hair like she was a kitten.

She shrugged, adjusting her head so that the badges on his uniform jacket weren't pressing into her cheek. "Sure. As long as you don't mess with me while we're there," she teased with a soft laugh.

"I never do that," he lied, laughing as well.

She rolled her eyes. "Always. And it always works out in your favor."

Hans then stood up and offered his hand to help Krista to her feet. She grabbed the towel that had ended up discarded on the floor, and wrapped it around her body. "Well, if we're going to go out, I suppose I should give you what I got for you while I was out," he said with smile while he watched her attempt to comb through her wet hair with her fingers.

"I told you that you didn't have to get me anything," she told him, finally realizing that there was little to no hope for her hair. 

"I know that, but I wanted to." She followed behind him out into the front part of the house where she saw a red bag sitting on the counter with gold writing on it. The word on the bag was too small for her to make out from a distance, but she already had a hunch as to what was contained within it. 

He pulled a large red box from said bag and handed it to her. Her hunch was correct. Cartier. She sighed internally. While it was a kind gesture, she wasn't the type to wear jewelry. She never was. Hesitantly, she opened the box, and her eyes fell on likely the most beautiful necklace she'd ever seen. Her mouth fell open, her jaw nearly hitting the floor. The last remnants of daylight sun filtered through the window near the front door and made the plethora of diamonds sparkle like the stars in the night sky. 

It had to be at least one hundred carats worth of diamonds and she felt that she was too clumsy to even be looking at it. "Oh wow..." she finally said, finding herself basically speechless. She thought that new Jeep parts were more beautiful than diamonds, but this just might be the exception to her mindset. She could only imagine the price tag on something like this, but she was almost scared to find out. 

"What do you think?" he asked, a tone of hope in his voice.

"It's uh... It's beautiful," she stammered. "But I can't accept this. It's way too much." Although she didn't quite feel comfortable accepting such an expensive piece of jewelry, she was unable to peel her eyes from it. She repeatedly tilted the box from side to side, noting the way the sun caught each facet of each gem.

"I don't think so. I think it will look beautiful on you. May I?" Krista placed the box in his hand. "Turn around," he said, as he carefully removed the necklace from the box it was safely nestled in. She gathered all of her hair to one side which allowed him to place the cool metal around her neck. He placed of gentle kiss to the nape of her neck before fastening the clasp. She reached up to her collarbone and allowed her fingertips to graze over the mass of gemstones that now encircled her neck. It felt rather heavy, and slightly uncomfortable. She didn't fully enjoy being 'icy'. He turned her back around and smiled at what he saw. In his eyes, it looked absolutely stunning on her. "It looks great on you," he said, his eyes wandering over the diamonds on her neck. 

Krista forced a small smile and agreed. "I like it. Thank you."

*

The restaurant they ended up at was more upscale than any restaurant Krista had ever been to. She didn't see herself as someone that was classy enough to go anywhere like this, but she was a different person here in Paris. She settled on a medium rare rib eye steak and a nice glass of the house red. As they all ate their meals, they simply carried out polite small talk, but Krista remained mostly silent. Her mind was elsewhere, to say the least.

Her thoughts kept drifting to the dream she had had earlier in the day when she fell asleep in the tub. Two weeks had elapsed since she and Dieter had run into each other in the deli, and she simply couldn't shake the feeling that she-or they- would eventually pay for the kiss they shared although she didn't initiate it. Perhaps it was his simple phrase "one day you'll come to your senses and I'll get my chance" that was getting to her. Maybe the fact that she saw his face in every person she looked at and he seemed to be the basis of all of her thoughts was her subconscious telling her that the feelings between them were mutual. 

She was wrenched back to reality when she felt Landa's hand grip her thigh firmly. "Is everything okay, my dear?" Hans seemed concerned.

Krista nodded and stood up from the chair she was seated in. "I'm alright. I'm just not feeling well, so I'm going to head home."

"Would you like me to come with?" he asked her, preparing to stand as well.

She waved him off. "No no, you stay. I'll be alright." She dug out the last bit of money that she had purchased on eBay from her small clutch and placed it at her spot at the table for her portion of the meal. "Thank you for inviting me, Obergruppenführer Kaltenbrunner. It was a pleasure."

"Of course," he answered.

Krista turned to walk away when Hans grabbed her wrist and pulled her down to his level for a delicate kiss. She lingered there for a moment longer than she probably should have, savoring the subtle taste of wine that hung on his lips. "I'll see you soon," he told her before releasing her. She blushed deeply, knowing full and well that all eyes were on the two of them in that very moment, and it made her feel a touch uncomfortable.

She nodded curtly, and made her way to the exit of the restaurant. She really had no idea where she was, so she just had to try her best to remember the direction they came from Landa's house in order to figure out which way it was to the train station.

As she clicked her way down the cobblestone street, she stepped aside into a nearby alley, and pulled her phone from her clutch. She looked around to make sure that no one was watching her. With her remaining three percent of battery, she sent a quick text to her sister. "Are you by chance at my house?"

She quickly replied. "Yup."

"I'll be there soon." She answered just before her phone powered down.

Exiting the alley, she tucked her phone back away, and sighed when she felt a stray raindrop land on her skin. As if it was bad enough that hadn't the foggiest idea where she was, it was beginning to rain. Awesome. And of all times that Dieter could have just appeared out of thin air to help her out, he was nowhere in sight. 

After wandering around for a half hour, she realized one thing. She was lost. "Fuck this city," she mumbled under her breath. Off in her peripherals, she saw a man walking the opposite direction. "Excuse me, sir?" she called out in German when she noticed the man was wearing an SS uniform.

The man stopped. "Yes?" He seemed surprised to see a woman done up in evening wear all alone in the Parisian streets. Out of the corner of her eye she saw the light from the streetlight overhead catch the diamonds around her neck. That shit was sparkly as hell.

"I don't mean to bother you, but I'm lost... could you tell me the way to the train station?"

He pointed down the road in the direction she was walking and gave her further directions from there.

When she finally caught them man's face, she fell into a stunned state, and her mouth fell open slightly. "Thank you," she eventually offered, finally closing her mouth and letting her lips curl upward into a polite smile.

Slowly, she began to walk slowly toward her destination, still in shock of who she had just ran into. She mumbled to herself under her breath, "holy shit, that was Jonas."


	8. Turning Point

April 9th, 2019; Tuesday (2:36 PM)

The sun shone brightly in Wisconsin, which caused Krista to force her eyes to a squint while she adjusted from being shrouded in near darkness. She rubbed her eyes, forgetting she had makeup on, and shook her head to herself. Kicking off her heels, she began to trudge her way through her backyard and to the rear of her house. "Sydney?" she called into the house after sliding open the heavy glass door that led to the kitchen.

While she wanted nothing more than to sit on the couch and die a few thousand times while playing Dark Souls, but she had been badgered about going in to the shop the last two days by her business partner, and best friend since middle school, Alex Avery. She had been told that a man had come in to the shop with a stock 1996 Jeep Wrangler looking to get it built into a Rubicon Trail worthy offroading rig. That wasn't typically the thing Krista would do at her shop since she technically specialized in classic car restoration, but she was never one to turn down an opportunity to work on a Jeep as long as she lived. With that being said, she really had no choice but to make an appearance. If she were being honest, since she'd done the work to her Jeep, she was dying to build up another, even if it wasn't hers. 

"Oh hey," Sydney said as she bounded down the stairs, wrapped in a terry cloth robe with her hair piled atop her head in a plush towel. "You're wet. Is it raining?" she asked, looking out the window and noticing nothing but blinding sunlight. 

"In Paris it is," she sighed, reaching around to the back of her neck to unclasp the heavy mass of diamonds that hung around it.

Sydney's eyes widened so far that they were bound to pop out of her head when she caught sight of the necklace. "Holy... shit, dude," she said, her jaw falling wide open. 

"What? This?" she asked, holding the necklace up in one hand.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, holding her hands out so that she could cradle it safely. "Where did you get it?" she asked, carefully examining each diamond.

She rolled her eyes playfully. "I can't believe that you even really need to ask that."

Sydney let out a laugh before handing the necklace back to her sister, where it was then placed on the kitchen counter. "Seriously, can I steal Hans from you?" she asked jokingly. "I'd kill to be spoiled like you," she added.

Krista sighed again, and slouched down onto one of the bar stools that surrounded her counter. "Take him," she breathed, closing her eyes and massaging her temples.

Sydney's eyebrows knitted together in confusion as she moved to stand on the opposite side of the countertop. "Why? What happened? Did he hurt you?"

She remained quiet for a short moment before allowing herself to speak. She really had it made in the shade with Hans; Nice dinners, expensive gifts, a free hotel room, mind blowing sex... The list could go on forever. But with the alarming number of times that the image of Dieter Hellstrom crept into her mind, she began to think that she had made a grave mistake somewhere along the line. "No, nothing like that. I just... I don't know what I'm getting myself into with him. Dieter told me-"

She was cut off. "Wait, wait, wait. Who's Dieter?" She asked curiously.

"A Gestapo major. He told me I need to be careful with Landa, because he can be dangerous."

Sydney shrugged before crossing the kitchen to grab a beer from Krista's fridge. "Well, I mean, he's an SS colonel. Sooo... Of course he's dangerous."

She shook her head dismissively. "Yeah, yeah, I know that. But he also keeps telling me shit like... Hans doesn't deserve me, and that I could do better... And then he kissed me. Out of nowhere."

Sydney was beginning to grow more and more envious with every word that fell from her sister's lips. "So you're telling me that you have two hot German guys going after you? That's not fucking fair!" Hans was Austrian not German, but to Sydney, it didn't make much difference. She twisted the bottle cap from the beer, and tossed it into the trash. Oh how Krista was dying for an American beer. But unfortunately, she was going to have to wait until she was through with working. The cars in her shop wouldn't work on themselves.

"Then I probably shouldn't add the fact that his eyes are gorgeous, and he's adorable in a sexy sort of way... And I think I kind of like him." She kind of did have a sort of childish, elementary school crush on him. She had been hoping over the last week, those feelings would subside and fade away to nothingness, but they had done quite the opposite; they had intensified. She couldn't stop thinking about him, and she was dying to spend more minute with him, and have a lengthy conversation about nothing in particular. 

"Girl, I fucking hate you," Sydney teased, raising the bottle to her lips and taking a long swig.

"I hate me too," she said, finally standing up. "I have to go into the shop for a little while, but I shouldn't be too long." She headed toward the stairs so she could put on a set of grimy work clothes. 

"That's cool. I'm going to head home after I finish my beer. I need to get my laundry done. Text me when you're back in Paris!" she called up the stairs.

"I will," Krista answered before making her way to the end of the hall to the master bedroom.

She inhaled deeply when she pulled open the door, immediately greeted with the pleasing scent of roses. She constantly sprayed her bedding with Stella by Stella McCartney, and she was glad to see that the oils from the perfume had incredible lingering power. She crossed to her closet, and pulled open a drawer in the small dresser that was situated inside. She pulled out a ratty old pair of Hollister jeans, then tugged a Jeep Invasion tee shirt from a hanger that had a permanent oil stain on it. Quickly, she slipped out of her form fitting dress and pulled on her clean clothes. After grabbing a clean pair of mismatched socks, she descended back down the stairs and into the kitchen. "Hey, did anything come from ModCloth for me? I ordered some more clothes because I keep wearing the same two skirts over and over."

Sydney nodded, swallowing the gulp of beer that she had held in her mouth. "Yeah, it's in the dining room. I think your Jeep Jamboree registration confirmation came too."

"Shit," she muttered. "I forgot I registered for that."

"Are you still going to go?"

She nodded. "Yeah, I'm going to go. I just won't be able to stay for the whole event. Hans will think it's weird if I don't show up anywhere in Paris for a few days. He'll probably start a city wide manhunt for me."

"That's annoying," Sydney told her, taking another sip from her bottle, now leaving it nearly empty.

"Well, I'm off to the shop. I'll let you know when I'm back in Paris. Love you!"

"Love you too! Be careful! And tell your boys I said I'm coming for them," she joked loudly.

"I'm not doing that," she replied, plucking the keys to her Ram 2500 from the hook beside the door that led to the garage.

She was relieved to see that her shop was not in disarray like she had expected, and in a back corner sat The '96 Wrangler, which was next to her Superbird project, which was next to a new addition. A 1939 Mercedes Benz Type 770. It was just too weird. She had been around these cars for weeks now, and it seemed all too strange that one would make its way to her shop to be restored. 

Krista spent a measly four hours in the shop before heading back home. Those four hours consisted of the remaining body work on a 1977 Corvette before rolling it into the paint booth and beginning the long process of painting. With three layers of primer applied, she would allow the car to sit for at least twenty four hours for the primer to fully cure before moving onto the final sanding and prep work before applying paint.

Before leaving, she made a brief stop at the Mercedes in the back of the shop, mentally cataloguing the parts it would need to be returned to its former glory. It was clear that the car needed an immense amount of work, and she was willing to bet that it wasn't even running. She sighed and turned away, knowing full and well that the car had a long road to recovery.

Now back at her house, she sat down with a small Jack and Coke, and began to sift through the massive package she had received from ModCloth. There was a vast array of dresses and other vintage style clothing inside the package, and she made quick work to pluck all of the tags off and shove them into a bag to be transported to Paris with her. Rolling her eyes, she tossed her necklace into the same bag, and set off for the seemingly ancient oak tree situated at the edge of her property. She opened up a World War II era photograph of the street in Paris that the Saint James was on, and stuffed it into her purse. She took a deep breath and walked right into the tree, in the same fashion as Hogwarts students. 

April 10th, 1943; Saturday (3:09 AM)

On the other side, she found herself once again in the train station, and had a sudden realization that she had forgotten to change her clothes. Too exhausted to even make an attempt to put era appropriate clothing on, she came to the conclusion she'd just have to quickly and stealthily travel to her room through the back of the hotel and be extra careful since it was well past curfew now.

She breathed a deep sigh of relief when she made it to her door, and quietly opened it before stepping inside and she wanted nothing more but to beeline for the bed and sleep, but a shower was necessary. She needed to wash of the smell of used motor oil and carburetor cleaner from her clothe, and the Bondo dust from her skin and hair. When she was done, she could go to sleep and sleep in as late as she wanted.

April 10th, 1943; Saturday (1:30 PM)

When it finally came time for Krista to climb out of bed and do something with her life, she readied herself for the day. She applied a fresh face of makeup including her trusty Unicorn Blood lipstick, and grabbed her leather messenger bag before hitting the streets.

Her goal for the day was to find a nice place to relax and read a book or sketch or write for a few hours. Ideally, somewhere quiet along the river would be great. 

Armed with an old sketchbook and a vast array of drawing pencils, she wandered through the streets, glad that there was finally a bit of sun to break up the somewhat depressing nature of the intermittent rain and clouds that seemed to eternally hover over the city.

As soon as she began to walk, she quickly realized that it was going to be a long walk to the river. Not to mention, she found herself starving, but she had already used the last of her money for dinner the previous night. Needless to say, she was unable to stop for lunch, and for absolutely no good reason at all, it pissed her off.

She made an ugly face to herself when she walked past the deli that she had eaten at a short while prior, because it just smelled so damn good. She quickly walked past it, hoping she would no longer be able to smell the delicious smells wafting from inside, and she wouldn't have to think about how angry her stomach sounded.

With the water of the Seine finally in sight, she made a split second decision to pop into a decently large floral shop first. Immediately, she was greeted with the sight of hundreds of flowers of all different colors and sizes. The varying scents of the flowers that were lined nearly to the ceiling of the shop were a delightful treat to her senses. Krista closed her eyes and inhaled deeply when she stumbled upon a section of roses. She reached out to touch the delicate flowers, the petals feeling as if they were silk beneath her fingertips. "Miss? Is there anything I can help you with?" And older man with glasses, who she assumed was the store owner, asked her in polite French.

She shook her head and replied, "No thank you sir, I'm only looking right now."

He offered her a nod and a smile, and disappeared back into the sea of flowers he had seemingly rose out of. 

For a moment, she simply stood there, admiring the beauty of the roses, but sighed when she, again, realized she hadn't any money to buy anything. However, compared to the fresh French lavender bundles that were beside them, the roses paled in comparison. With a single long sniff, she could feel herself growing calmer, and her troubles seemed to drift away for a moment, and it almost made her forget about her snarling stomach that wanted to be fed. Lavender grown in the US just didn't smell as nice. Simple as that. Case closed.

She glanced out the storefront window, and did a double take when she caught a glimpse of a black Gestapo uniform. When she finally made her exit from the store, the man was gone, and she continued on her way to find a relaxing spot to chill.

A nice patch of grass shaded by a large tree near the water caught her eye fairly quickly, and she sat down and made herself comfortable. Although she had a certain distaste for the city, she found it beautiful. She found it hard to believe that while it was occupied by the Nazis, yet it still held its beauty. Yes, it was strange to see German officers walking around in their uniforms, but she found it... cool to be in such an important time of history. It was almost like she was living in her US History book from her Junior year in high school. It was a feeling that she couldn't quite describe.

Wasting no more time, she pulled her leather messenger bag from her shoulder and sat it in to soft grass beside her. She leaned back against the tall tree, and looked around her for some nice subject to draw. Her sketchbook was nearly full, and she was making it a personal goal to actually finish one for once. Only ten pages remained, so accomplishing her goal was within her grasp. Directly in front of her was a seemingly happily in love French couple sitting with their backs to her, and she picked out a drawing pencil with a hard lead to begin roughly sketching the outlines and basic features of her subject matter. Following that, she moved to a few softer leads to begin to build up the peaceful background and add more details to the couple. 

She took a break after about a half hour, and looked down at what she had drawn. The woman sat beside the man, resting her head on his shoulder. She found herself smiling to herself, and yearning for that sort of love. After the train wreck of her last relationship, she swore to herself she'd never let herself fall in love again. She decided that it simply wasn't worth the heartbreak she felt when trying to salvage anything she could from it and receiving nothing in return. In the end, her six month long effort to save her relationship was pointless. She and her boyfriend had gone their separate ways, and she never looked back. It was then that she realized that she didn't need a man in her life. 'Hustle like a man so you don't have to rely on one', she'd always say. But now that she found herself in the city of love, she couldn't help but begin to shy away from her previous convictions.

"What are you drawing?" A voice from beside her asked.

She looked back down at her half-finished drawing, not realizing that she recognized the voice. "Oh, nothing really," she replied, finally turning to the side to see where the voice had come from. He was holding a neatly wrapped object in one hand, and a red rose in the other. He looked like he should be heading out on a date. She rolled her eyes slightly at what she saw, but her gesture was met with a bright, welcoming smile. Was it actually him that she saw outside the florist? "Are you stalking me?" She asked him, a soft chuckle in her words.

"No, I just keep running into you somehow." He handed the long stem rose to her, and smiled sweetly. "For the beautiful lady."

She eyed it for a long while as she brushed her fingers over the silken petals. "Thank you," she finally said, blushing. She'd never had a man present her with flowers before, and she had a second where she didn't really know what to think.

Dieter Hellstrom's uncanny ability for finding her was beginning to get a touch unnerving, and she was unable to understand how he kept doing it. 'Shouldn't he be working?' she thought to herself, but she realized that the SS likely didn't have a typical nine to five schedule. They probably worked weird hours and weird shifts. "May I see?" he asked her, reaching for the open sketchbook. She handed it up to him, and he closely examined it, smiling softly when his eyes fell on the happy couple in the center of the drawing. "This is beautiful," he told her before handing it back and taking a seat beside her. "You're very talented."

"Thank you," she managed, catching his gorgeous blue eyes once he was beside her. Snapping back into reality, she looked back down at the drawing one last time before closing the book. "So what brings you here, Sturmbannführer?" she asked, watching a pair of birds happily fly through the air over the river's rippling water.

"You," he told her seriously, but with a sneaky grin. "I also got this for you."

Dieter handed Krista the small box shaped package wrapped in brown paper and tied up with twine. She looked up to him before taking the package into her left hand. "What's this?" she asked, quirking a brow. She was struggling to determine why she was so special that she had two gorgeous men buying her gifts. It made her feel weird, but at the same time, she sort of enjoyed being pampered. Maybe her sister was right to envious toward her.

"Open it," he urged, his eyes never leaving her as she did so, a hopeful smile tugging the corners of his mouth upward. 

Carefully, she untied the tidy bow in the center of the package and pulled the paper off of it. When it was open, she stared at the cover of what she now knew was a book. "You didn't have to do this," she said with a nervous laugh. She brushed her fingertips over the cover. Jane Eyre.

"I know, but I'm sure Landa has been buying you all kinds of things, and I want you to know that I care for you, too. Not to mention, I felt guilty for interrupting you while you were reading it that one night." Krista had thought about the possibility that Dieter kept seeking her out at random times was due to the fact that he secretly had some sort of crush on her, but hearing him say something along the lines of that seemed so surreal.

She felt the need then to defend Hans and say that the gift giving was really nothing more than a kind gesture, but Dieter wasn't stupid. He knew better. 

"I saw you last night at dinner with him and Kaltenbrunner. You looked incredible. And that necklace... Wow. Landa clearly thinks you're special to gift you diamonds like that." Krista looked down to avoid his eyes, and bit her lip. She always felt so bad when Dieter would see her and Hans together, because she knew that it upset him. "He's lucky," he added, lowering his voice and looking down as well.

"But you don't even really know me. How do you know he's lucky?" she finally looked up to him.

He laughed quietly, meeting her eyes finally. "I know enough about you to come to that conclusion."

Krista wasn't typically one to find herself speechless, but this time, she really didn't know what to say. When she lost all motivation to form an intelligent response, the simply sat there and remained quiet and allowed the sounds from around the river wash over them. 

He moved closer to her, so close that she could feel the material of his tunic brushing her bare arm. Dieter leaned into her ear and whispered, "That could be us someday," he said before gently brushing his lips over the shell of her ear and lingering there for a moment. Clearly, he was referring to the couple that she had begun to sketch.

Dieter began to stand up to leave, but Krista grabbed his hand before he could do so. "Dieter, wait..." she said, her voice cracking. "Do you want to sit with me? Just for a little while?" she asked in a soft tone.

"Of course," he answered, returning to his spot in the lush grass beside her. 

Without even thinking, she let her head fall to his shoulder, and she closed her eyes. He smelled of subtle lavender and some sort of musky cologne, and she hadn't realized until then how much she liked it; how much she was beginning to like him in general. But Hans could never know that. They'd both end up in deep shit with a shit rope being the only method to escape.

He smiled, slipping his arm between her back and the tree, and allowed his hand to rest at her waist. The modest gesture had him thinking that maybe he'd get the girl after all. His intentions were clear; he wanted to both treat her the way she deserved to be treated, and protect her, but not to the point of possession. It was seeming like the stars were beginning to align in his favor, and he couldn't have been more proud of the fact that a potentially romantic situation was actually going his way for once. 

Krista reached her right arm across her body, and let her hand fall atop his before mindlessly toying with his fingers in an affectionate manner, making Dieter's smile widen a little more. "Do you really think that could be us someday?" she questioned, now feeling at an ideal level of relaxation. At the moment this was right where she wanted to be. She felt safe with Dieter, but in a different way that she felt safe with Hans. It was difficult for her to determine which route she preferred, but at this moment, she didn't care, and she had no desire to entertain the thought. She just wanted to sit with Dieter and enjoy the pleasant afternoon. It just felt... so right.

He dropped a kiss into her hair, both of them peering ahead at the happy couple before them. "Would you like that?"

She let a soft laugh fall from her dark red lips. This was beginning to feel like the start of something that she didn't fully know she wanted, but she was fully prepared to embrace it. She finally answered after she felt him slip his fingers into the spaces between her own. "I think I would."

-

AUTHOR NOTES: Quick note here, through my brief research, it didn't appear that there were any parks along the Seine during the 40s, unless I wasn't looking in the right places. With that being said, I made one up. Please don't roast me for that. I mean, if you want to, I guess that's all good, too.

I also want to add that when I started toying with the idea of writing this while I was at work, Major Hellstrom was just going to be a... hindrance... let's say. HOWEVER. I fell in love with August Diehl all over again when I watched A Hidden Life, and I decided that I'm going to make Dieter into a lover, and I'm not even sorry about that. Is it out of character according to Inglourious Basterds? Without a doubt. But I feel like under the uniform and the cocky attitude, there's a nice guy that's screaming to get out.

Lastly, I would like to thank all of you that have read this, and are continuing to read it. I haven't written anything for years, and this story was what it took to make me realize how much I enjoy writing. I'm not the best author out there, but I still want to thank everyone that reads and supports my writing. It makes me feel like maybe I don't suck so bad after all.


	9. Siren

AUTHOR NOTES:  
If you are reading this chapter, and find yourself in a state of confusion, I understand, and I apologize. I’ve decided that that chapter wasn’t placed well, and it felt too rushed. With that being said, ‘Disorderly Conduct’ (the previous last uploaded chapter) will be rewritten and moved to a place in the story later on where it will make more sense. So for the time being, let’s just act like that chapter never existed.

  
I understand that in rewriting the first two chapters entirely and changing the whole direction of the story I may have confused some readers. And for that, I also apologize. My intention was not to do that, but to change the storyline enough that I would be able to create an entertaining piece of FanFiction that would keep the reader wondering what the fuck could possibly happen next.

  
I have a lot of twists and turns planned, as well as the entire ending. I won’t say much, but what I will say is that Krista’s actions will have their consequences.  
Now without further ado, I finally present to you a new chapter titled ‘Siren’.  
As always, thank you for reading, and enjoy!

  
-

  
April 12th, 1943; Monday  
Living in a sick ass hotel room that you don’t have to pay for? Dope.

  
Being able to scroll through Reddit while smoking Strawberry Cough in 1940s Paris? That’s what dreams are made of.

  
Having no time period job and no money to buy shit? Fucked.

  
Had Krista enjoyed her bout of recklessly spending her time doing absolutely nothing? Of course! Who the hell wouldn’t? It was time for her to actually get off her ass and look for a local occupation that would allow her to not rely on buying antique coins and banknotes on eBay. She had considered this before, but she felt like she was living the high life until all her money was gone. Since she was still working at her garage and still side gigging on the weekends, she had put off finding a job. That was just too much stress on her already exhausted body that she had no desire to put herself through. When she decided that living off of Landa’s generosity would only last so long, she bit the bullet and set off in search of a bar tending job.

  
She had some experience in the field, but most likely not enough experience to land her a paying job. Even though she had little hope since she was a woman, but she was determined to at least give it an honest effort.

  
By four in the afternoon, Krista’s feet were screaming at her, and she found herself wondering how exactly Carrie Bradshaw could walk around Manhattan all day in Manolos. Out of the seven bars she had stopped into, seven had turned her away. Feeling defeated, she was prepared to give up and talk to Landa about finding her an HQ job.  
She plopped herself down on the curb and lit up her last cigarette from the smashed pack in her purse, and stretched her legs out into the street. The sky was so beautiful again today, and it reminded her of how much she adored springtime.

  
As she took a long drag, a weeping young woman approached her, her eyes red like she had just walked out of a hotbox. In very choppy French, the woman spoke. “Miss… Could… Could I trouble you for a cigarette?” She sniffled before wiping her eyes.

  
Krista rolled her deep red lips together and looked down at what was left of her Marlboro menthol. “You can finish this.” Krista stood up and offered the woman a smile before letting her eyes drop down the woman’s knees. They were covered in bruises; bruises that Krista remembered from her first week dancing. “I don’t mean to be rude, but where do you dance? I’m looking for a job.” It was bold of her to make such an assumption, but at this point in the day, she wouldn’t have cared if this woman would have slapped her and told her to fuck off.

  
She sniffled again, and took a shaky drag. “I didn’t make it,” she managed. “The woman with the red hair told me that I had to take my top off when I was on stage.”

  
Krista analyzed the young woman’s mascara streaked cheeks, and couldn’t help but let her lips curl upward just slightly. Surely it couldn’t really be a strip club. That would just be too good to be true. “If you don’t mind me asking,” Krista began, turning to face the woman better. “Where is this club?”

  
She sniffed and wiped her eyes with her sleeve. Drawing the cigarette to her lips, she pointing down the street they were standing on. “At the end of this road, go left. It’s hard to miss… It’s Red’s Showgirls.”

  
Krista offered the young woman a smile, and gave her a pat on the shoulder. “Thank you.”

  
In her head, she did the math on how long it would take her to go from where she was to the train station, go back home and gather her dance bag, then get to the club. She simply wouldn’t have the time to get herself readied to audition and make it to the club to audition by curfew. So it would have to wait.

  
-

  
Even though she wouldn’t be able to audition right then and there, she still went home and gathered up some simple pieces and accessories for this audition for this supposed strip club. Now back in her hotel room, she began to unpack the bag that had been hurriedly thrown together so that it could be organized properly.

  
She looked over the black lace and spandex that littered her bed and reached for the set that she bought the last shift she worked in Chicago. She sauntered her way to a mirror and stripped down before sliding the asset enhancing lace outfit on. Checking herself at every angle, she adjusted the fabric until it clung to her body perfectly. She secured her Flamingo height black patent leather booties to her feet and slowly walked back to the mirror and smiled. She was confident. She had this.

  
Suddenly, she was taken back to her first week of dancing. Fresh out of the military with no clue what to do next. She was renting a small one bedroom apartment in Milwaukee, and danced at two different clubs simultaneously.

  
Since she missed out on her ‘crazy early twenties’ phase, she felt that as long as none of her family or friends knew that she was shaking her ass for money, she could justify the lifestyle. Her first week was an absolute roller coaster. She learned the strats quickly, and found that this was the most fun she had had in a long time. Her natural confidence made the work very easy for her, and her physical shape made pole work just as easy.

  
As Krista gazed into the reflection of herself, and something a veteran dancer told her crept its way into her mind. Cassidy was her stage name, and her real name Krista never knew. Cassidy’s last night was Krista’s first. After Cassidy’s final stage set, as she gathered all of her money and stuffed it into buckets, she looked at Krista and said with a dark smile, “ain’t no love for a woman selling lust,” before making her way through the crowd that was cheering for her and throwing money on her. That stuck with her, and she made it a rule to live by.

  
Yanked back to reality when she heard a faint knock at her door, she rushed to the bed to shut off the music she had softly playing. “One moment, please,” she called out in French. She didn’t even bother to put a robe on, because she couldn’t care less who saw her dressed as she was. She pulled the door open and was met with the eyes of Hans Landa. She sunk her teeth into the inside of her bottom lip and inwardly muttered “fuck.”

  
He raised his eyebrows and was not shy about the manner in which he scanned over her form. “What is the occasion?” he asked, not a note of emotion in his face.  
She simply shrugged, and leaned provocatively against the door frame. “Just wanted to feel sexy,” she purred.

  
“May I come in?” he asked, her motioning to the inside of her room.

  
“Yes, sir.” She stepped back, allowing him inside. At that moment, she had never been more thankful that she had placed her phone inside her bag, because he went straight to the bed and plopped down. “What brings you here at this time of night?”

  
He watched her closely as she walked one foot expertly in front of the other, and found himself mesmerized by the flow of her hips as she moved. “You, of course.”

  
Seductively, she bit her lip once she was standing before him and placed her hands gently on his knees. “Did you miss me?” She asked him as she spread his legs apart and moved to stand between them. With eight inch heels on, she was much taller than he was, his face was directly at neck level. She placed a finger beneath his chin and tilted his face upward to meet her eyes.

  
“Yes,” he said, his hands moving to rest on her hips.

  
With the gentle weight of his hands resting on her body, she adopted a slow, tantalizing pace of moving her hips in the absolute most seductive way possible. “That’s what I like to hear,” she breathed, leaning down to press her lips teasingly to his, knowing he’d be desperate for more.

  
“I came by earlier, and you weren’t here. Where have you been all day?” he asked, his hands falling from her frame.

  
She dropped her hand to her side, and stepped back. “Looking for a job.” Truth was, she now had a lead on a job, and she found herself toying with the prospect of telling Hans, but she wasn’t sure that she was fully prepared to rip off the Band Aid yet.

  
“Whatever would you need to work for? Am I not taking care of you well enough?”

  
He sounded almost hurt, but she was under the impression that they were at an understanding that she didn’t want to rely on him. “I’m a very independent person. I don’t want someone to support me, because I’m perfectly capable of doing it on my own.”

  
He stood from the bed and absentmindedly looked out the moonlight glimmering through the window on the unlit side of the room. “And where, pray tell, were you hoping to find this… job you are looking for?” He asked her, in a rather snarky tone.

  
“For your information, colonel, I’m auditioning at Red’s tomorrow.”

  
His eyes moved to her at her words, and he crossed the room to stand before her. All of a sudden, his tone shifted, which was not the reaction she was expecting, but she welcomed it. “Well. I must admit. I wouldn’t have expected you to be that type of woman.”

  
She shrugged. “You know what kind of woman I am. I’m confident in who I am. And you have to be honest with yourself, Hans. Being with a showgirl has its perks.” She slowly began to circle around him, her movements graceful in her sky high platforms. “You’re the only one allowed to touch me when all the other men can only dream about it.” She stopped behind him, and leaned forward to press her chest into his back to place her lips just at the shell of his ear. “You’re the only one that gets to lie with me at night and fuck me as you please…” Her voice was raspy and it made Hans burn with a sudden desire for her. She was no stranger to the act of finessing. She knew how to get what she wanted with carefully strung together sentences that may carry hidden meanings. She nipped at his earlobe before moving down to press a soft kiss to his neck. “Does that turn you on, colonel?” She asked him in German, as her arms curled around him, her hands flat against his front.

  
“You have a way with words,” he answered, his eyes falling closed at her gentle yet deliberate touch. Her hand drifted lower and lower down the front of his body until stopping at his belt. At the prospect of her releasing him from his pants and taking him into her mouth, he found it painfully difficult to keep himself composed. “Dance for me,” he finally managed, reluctantly pulling away from her touch and making his way to a chair that sat in the corner of the room nearest the balcony.

  
The absence of music would not give Hans the full effect of her capabilities, but she would just have to do her best. She began by slowly running her hands along her body, and swayed her hips slowly to an imaginary song. He seemed to be enjoying it enough, so she moved closer and turned her back to him. Showcasing her flexibility, she bent herself in half with a deep arch in her back, and slowly brought herself back up. When she could feel his hand on her ass, she was quick to slap it away. “No touching the entertainer,” she said in a mocking tone before continuing her dance.

  
She hadn’t realized until now just how awkward it was to dance without music. She had been so accustomed to dancing either in her house or in a club that the silence that filled the room was deafening. It was just too… weird.

  
She was relatively proud of herself at the moment though, because she was getting the precise reaction that she was aiming for. He was thoroughly hypnotized by the movement of her hands on her body and the shifting of her hips from side to side. “Do you want to see more?” she asked, hooking a thumb into one of the straps of her outfit, and began to move it down her arm.

  
“Yes,” he said eagerly, a wicked grin playing on his lips.

  
She slid her top down, untying it once she had turned away from him. The black lace fell to the floor and she covered both of her breasts with one arm before turning back to him again. “Do you want to come watch my audition?” she asked breathily, not ceasing her dancing.

  
For a moment, he closed off, and seemed to lose interest in what was before him. “No?” she questioned, finally stopping her dance.

  
“My apologies… I was distracted for a moment... I would love to watch your audition,” he said, standing up from the chair he was sitting in. He turned her around and mimicked her movements from earlier. His hands traced down her body over her exposed skin and slipped into her panties. Krista’s eyes fell closed at his gentle touch and she found herself pressing her body back into him, suddenly craving more. “And for the record, Fraulein, I can touch you whenever I please,” he whispered almost possessively in her ear.  
That tone nearly made her knees buckle, and it seemed to be the spur she needed to kick her desire for him into high gear. She felt her upper hand fall away into nonexistence as she allowed herself submit to him. “Yes you can,” she muttered, melting into putty beneath his skilled fingertips. Krista then arched her back into him, her head falling atop his shoulder. As her neck relaxed and dropped to the side, his lips and tongue were quick to all but attack the skin there.

  
Reluctantly, she forced herself away from his touch, and turned around to face him again. His hands did not hesitate in grabbing her ass in turn making a soft moan fall from her lips. She took two steps backward, and steadied herself as she stood on one foot. She slowly drew her left leg up, her knee now at chest level. She paused for a moment and caught his fiery, lust filled gaze. “I heard you like flexible girls,” she murmured in a sultry tone. With a firm grip, she wrapped the fingers of her left hand around her heel and extended her leg far above her head. He stepped forward, and she placed her free hand on his shoulder to hold herself still while she slowly brought her leg back down.

  
“You heard correctly.” His fingers maneuvered their way into her loosely curled hair, and gave it a sharp tug, the column of her throat now fully exposed to him. “You drive me mad,” he mumbled into her skin before his lips and tongue began a very slow journey to her mouth. “I mean it when I say I’ve never met a woman like you in my life. I think that you are more like myself than you realize.”

  
The thought made her shiver. It seemed like he was implying that they would be the ideal couple. But as Krista has learned, it takes a special type of person to have a personality compatible with hers. While she was not interested in a formal relationship in any way, shape, or form, she knew that what they had now would fall apart at some point. “Oh really?” she challenged, reaching behind her head to pull his hand from her hair.

  
Shock spread over his face when she pulled her hand from her blonde locks. It was as if he was surprised that she had the nerve to try to regain the upper hand. He had to admit though; this back and forth was thrilling. He couldn’t predict her next move and it kept him on his toes, never knowing what to expect.

  
Krista finally let her hand venture from his shoulder, her fingers grasping his tie in order to pull his body into her. “Two dominating personalities don’t mix, Hans.” She teasingly bit her lip as she caught his eyes again. She leaned forward and the tip of her tongue sneaked out to trace over his bottom lip before reducing her voice to a gravelly whisper. “It could get dangerous,” she breathed in German.

  
“Prove it,” he answered in German before Krista began to undress him and drag him to the bed.

April 13th, 1943; Tuesday (1:36 AM)

  
After an hour of waiting for Krista to drift off into a deep, exhaustion fueled sleep, he finally slipped from beneath her arm that was haphazardly draped over him. He crossed the room and began to redress, his eyes falling to Krista’s sleeping form tangled in the sheets. He had had many partners over the years, and this American woman was without a doubt the most interesting and exciting to date. There was something about her that put him in an all-consuming trance no matter how hard he tried to resist it. The way she moved her body was hypnotizing, the way her lips teased his skin made him desire everything she could give him.

  
He shook those thoughts from his mind when he thought of the photograph that she had dropped from her seat at the bar the night they met. There was obviously a reason that she was in the possession of a photograph of an SS lieutenant that was under investigation for a clandestine alliance with the French Resistance. There was a connection between the girl and the lieutenant, he was certain of it. He just had to connect the dots.

  
Was she a spy? Maybe, but probably not. Was his money what she was after? Dubious. He assumed that whatever she was after had something to do with Jonas. But what it was, he didn’t know yet. He hadn’t compiled enough information.

  
Now fully dressed, he gave Krista one last glance before leaving her hotel room and heading off for a little more adult entertainment, because he just hadn’t had enough.  
Musky, floral perfumes and cigarette smoke mingled to fill the air with an aroma that was typical of a night club.

  
Hans paid his cover fee, and sat at his typical seat at the bar. “Usual, Hans?” The bartender asked, her black hair situated above her head neatly.  
“Please, Miranda.” She nodded and smiled, setting off to pour him his usual whiskey on the rocks.

  
She slid the glass to him, and took note of his somewhat disheveled appearance. “Rough night?” she questioned, picking up a wet rag to wipe down the countertop. “Any woman that can leave you looking like that is a keeper, and that’s a fact.” Her eyes drifted to his neck where she could see the very edge of a dark bruise. “You even let her mark you. Now that is something I wouldn’t have ever expected.”

  
He chuckled softly, raising his glass to his lips. “There’s something about her that I simply can’t figure out. She has the strangest effect on me.”

  
“What’s her name?” She asked.

  
“Krista,” he replied, draining the rest of his glass with one drink. “She’s a different breed, if you know what I mean. It’s almost as if she is a siren of sorts.”

  
She shook her head and dropped the rag into the bucket of soapy water that was sitting at her feet. “There are two new dancers that just started tonight if you’d like to meet them. They’re on stage right now.” Miranda nodded to the stage. “I think you’ll like them. They’re both Swedish.”

  
“Well, my lady, if you would be so kind to refill my drink, I will be off to watch the show.” He offered her a sweet smile before digging into his pocket to pull out a crumpled banknote. He straightened the bill out and handed it to her. “Keep the change.”

  
“Enjoy your night, colonel.” The exchanged one last smile before he turned away from the bar to scan the room for what he came here for in the first place.

  
And there she was, making her way across the floor to him, a devilish gleam in her eyes. “Hello, Hans,” she purred, her hand falling to his chest gently. “Did you miss me? I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

  
“I do apologize, Nadia, but I’ve been very busy. I haven’t had enough free time to do much of anything.” He ran his hand through her hair, catching her deep brown eyes. “But I’m here now, am I not?”

  
“Yes,” she mumbled softly. She also caught sight of the bruise on his neck, and frowned. “You were with her again, weren’t you?” she asked almost sadly.

  
He sighed and looked down into her almost doll-like eyes again. “Yes, I was with her.”

  
“Do you love her more than me?” She placed her other hand flat on his chest, and gazed into his eyes longingly. “Well, do you?”

  
Once when Hans had visited The Black Rose, he had made a comment about enjoying Nadia’s company greatly. She interpreted what he said as ‘I love you’. When he attempted to explain what he actually meant, she insisted that he truly did love her. He didn’t, and whenever she brought it up he would try to dodge any further conversation. “Would you like to have a seat?”

  
And in a flash, she forgot what she was even talking about. But only for a moment.

  
Hans settled into a deep red arm chair, and Nadia draped herself across his lap. Her right arms slid around his neck while his curled around her waist, holding her close to him as they both watched the dancers on stage. “What can you tell me about Red’s?” He asked her suddenly.

  
She turned to him and sighed. “Red has all of the most beautiful girls from all of Europe. She only hires the prettiest ones.” She dropped her head.

  
“Then why aren’t you there, sweets?” Hans asked her, tilting her head back up so their eyes could meet.

  
She sniffled, fighting back the tears that were sure to come. “I wasn’t pretty enough. That’s why I work here instead.”

  
Nadia was a cute girl. Only in her early twenties, so much too young for him to actually pursue, but she was pretty. However, when compared to the mysterious Krista Jäger he had gotten himself mixed up with, there was no contest. Which is why he was so conflicted about his feelings for her. Were they real? Or did his imagination conjure them up because she was the total package. She was everything he had been in search of for a very long time. He just wasn’t fully sure if she was trustworthy or not. Only time would tell. “My dear, don’t cry. You are beautiful inside and out.” He dropped a gentle kiss to her forehead. “You belong at Red’s just as much as the others do.”

  
“You mean it?” she asked him with innocent eyes.

  
“Of course I do. You’re going to make some lucky man very happy one day.” He tucked her hair behind her ear before taking a sip from his icy cold glass.

  
She looked down and absentmindedly toyed with the badges on his chest. “I want you to be the lucky one. I want to make you happy.” She stuck out her bottom lip and pouted. “I want to marry you someday, Hans. I would make you happy forever.”Finding a way to respond was a struggle. For the life of him, he couldn’t formulate an answer to let her down easily. “Nadia, I want you to listen to me. I enjoy your company. But I’m not sure that you are properly prepared for a marriage. You’re so young still.”

  
She immediately took offense. “I’m too young? Is that what’s wrong with me? I thought you loved me!” She stood up, and tears began to trickle down her pale cheeks.

  
“You may have misunderstood what I said… I never explicitly said that I loved you, Nadia. Enjoying being in someone’s company and being in love are two very different things.”

  
“They aren’t to me!” She shouted, tears flowing freely now. “Do you love her?” She asked angrily, her arms now folded tightly across her chest, her breasts pressed together as a result.

  
“I never said that.” He tried, although he knew it was pointless. She caught him glance down at her breasts, and she drew a hand harshly across his face, the impact producing a loud slap.

  
“Fuck you, Hans! I hope I never see you again!” She stomped back to the dressing room, her kitten heels clicking furiously across the tiled floor.

  
He blinked a few times and shook his head before slamming the rest of his drink and dropping it off at the bar on his way out without a single word. He was in and out of the club in under five minutes. A new record.

  
After a long walk to his house, he laid in bed simply staring at the ceiling with his arms crossed behind his head. He rolled on his side, and clutched the pillow that Krista always used when she stayed over. He buried his face in it, and inhaled deeply. It smelled just like her and her sexy rose scented perfume. He loved it on her. He inhaled the aroma trapped in the pillow once more before rolling onto his back once more, assuming his original position. She was intoxicating. She was bad for him and he knew it. Not to mention, he was still a little suspicious of her and her intentions.

  
When he closed his eyes, he saw her every time. Always with long, fluttery lashes to accentuate her emerald toned eyes, and deep red lipstick adorning her oh so kissable lips. He couldn’t get enough of her, and she had a way of continually drawing him back. Surely this wasn’t love… right?

  
-

  
MORE AUTHOR NOTES:

  
It’s been ages since I worked on this story, and finally, all of the waiting has paid off.

  
This chapter went in a VERY different direction than I had originally planned, but I can’t be mad about it. Blue Dream works wonders, my friends.

  
Anywho. The next chapter will be what this chapter was supposed to be. Hope you enjoyed!

  
-Taylor


	10. Red’s Showgirls

AUTHOUR'S NOTE:

Hey everyone! I'm back! Hopefully with more regular updates. 

I opted to shorten this chapter to around half of what my typical chapters are because I wanted to know: Do you, the readers, prefer shorter chapters such as this one? Or longer, more in depth chapters such as my previous chapters? 

Drop a comment and give me your opinion, because I would like to know what I can do to be of better service to you as an author.

With that all being said... Enjoy "Red's Showgirls"!

-

April 13th, 1943; Tuesday (6:20 PM)

Bulbs in varying shades of white surrounded a large neon sign that boldly displayed "Red's Showgirls" cast their warm glow onto the afternoon rain drenched cobblestone street below. The protective arm of Hans Landa snaked its way around his mistress's waist as they approached the front entrance that led to a high roller's nightlife. Three men stood there, one at a podium monitoring and recording the attendance, and one at each of the two doors of gleaming red and gold that stood closed tightly before them. 

Poured into that Alexander McQueen gown again to make an ideal first impression, Krista forced her excitement back down into her body when she finally found herself face to face with the blonde man at the podium. "How may I be of assistance to you?" he asked in French, his eyes shifting between Krista and Hans.

Krista adjusted the heavy leather bag that was slung over her shoulder when she felt the knot in the strap dig into her skin almost painfully, and offered the man a soft smile. She replied in French. "I'm here to audition for an entertainer position."

"Names, please," he said simply, lowering his view to the leather-bound attendance book that lay open on the podium.

"Krista Jäger and Hans Landa," she replied, watching as the man visibly shuddered at the mention of Landa's name. In that fraction of a second, the entire mood had shifted, and the air being inhaled into their lungs with every breath felt painfully thick with tension. It was clear that this was a French man, and he wasn't too jazzed on him being the 328th cocky German intelligence officer in his face that night. Krista tried her best to ignore that, because she had much bigger fish to fry.

Once those red double doors opened to reveal what they contained, Krista's eyes lit up and began to sparkle. Her signature red lips curled up into a smile of near childlike wonder crossed with disbelief. As if being in Paris in the 1940s wasn't unrealistic enough, when you add a sprinkle of strip club, it becomes even more unrealistic.

She had an alarming thought just at that moment that she should have had much sooner. Who was she to meddle with time? Who was she to travel to 1940s Paris and do whatever the fuck she wanted? The conclusion she settled on was inspired mostly by Rick and Morty. She had decided that she was simply on an alternate timeline where her actions and antics did not alter her own timeline, just her current one. When in actuality, it was much more complex than that.

As Krista and Hans made their way into the club, she found herself unable to focus on one single aspect of the club. Large chandeliers hung from the ceiling, each draped with a translucent red fabric to add both extra decoration and a red cast of light. The simple red lighting transported her back to her early days of dancing in Milwaukee. 

She next noticed three stages, one on each side with one pole, then the much larger, main stage in the center of the room with two. Up on the main stage were two young dancers, one clad in red, and the other in a stunning navy blue. It was at that point that Krista decided that she couldn't care less what Hans thought about the place, because she was in heaven. She was dying to get up on that stage and command every customer's attention.

Krista felt a gentle weight fall from her waist, and she forced herself out of her daze. "I'm going to sit by the stage." Krista nodded. "Good luck, beautiful," he told her in German before dropping a deep yet delicate kiss to her painted red lips.

"Danke," she replied in a husky whisper, nipping at his bottom lip before releasing him from their all while acting like he didn't slip in that damn pet name again. She still hated when he called her that, even though she should be beyond used to it by now. It was still irritating to her though, and likely always would be.

Beside the main stage was a band that contained a variety of instruments. This was arguably one of the strangest parts of this club. When one is accustomed to attending a modern day strip club, they all have, say, a DJ. No, no, no. Red's had a whole ass band. No DJ station near the stage calling the dancers up by their stage names; no DJ to jokingly harass the customers into throwing money on the dancers. She could only imagine what the club music from the forties was like. But then, she paused for a moment, her eyes absentmindedly affixed to the bar. Krista allowed the music to dance into her ear canals. There, she allowed it to marinate. She grinned when she solved the mystery, and sang the lyrics in her head. This was just too weird... "I been fuckin' hoes and poppin' pillies, man I feel just like a rockstar." She could hear Post Malone's smooth singing voice in her head, and she wasn't even mad. Aside from the music source, everything was very similar to any of the number of clubs she had worked at. Even the floor plan seemed familiar. She already had so many questions for this... Red.

"You must be Krista," an American sounding English voice came from behind her. "I heard I was supposed to be seeing another girl to audition..." Krista spun around, her false lashes fluttering when she blinked. A pleased smiled claimed Red's lips. She looked Krista up and down in a manner that any normal person would be offended. "But I didn't expect a girl like you." There was a moment of silence where they simply exchanged expressions. "Where do you dance?" Red finally asked, her eyes glued to Krista's.

Krista scanned Red, in search of something... anything in her eyes that would be an indication not to share the intimate details of her actual life. But she thought for a second: If Red already could tell that Krista was a dancer, there was no reason to lie. "Ocean." 

Red's grin widened as she looked Krista over a second time, her eyes lingering on all of the glitz on her gown. "Chicago. I'm impressed." She circled around Krista, checking her body at all angles. "I have one more question for you, Miss Jäger," Red stated as she began to circle around the potential dancer before her.

"Of course."

Red quickly asked. "Stage Name?"

"Nina," Krista answered smoothly and confidently, paying homage to her very first dancing gig fresh out of the Marine Corps.

Red was now stopped before Krista with her arms crossed across her chest. "Listen. I'm going to hire you. But I still want to see you on stage. So go get changed and head up. You're on deck." Red pointed to a red velvet curtain toward the back of the club beside one of the side stages. "The locker room's that way."

Krista nodded and hiked the bag's strap up again and began to walk away but stopped. "Can I ask you a question?" 

"Absolutely," Red answered, closing the space between the two of them. 

"Where do you dance?"

Red hesitated for a moment before letting out a sarcastic laugh, and acting like she hadn't been bothered with a question. "Top off by the second song," she said in a snarky tone before turning away.

Krista wanted to make an impression with this audition above anything else. With that being the case, she had dug through her closet at home for her all time sexiest and most luxurious dance outifts and shoes. She paired a strappy harness set with straps in all of the right places to accentuate her moneymakers. She clipped her garter belt that covered her flat stomach to the tops of her fishnet stockings before sliding into the same Flamingo booties she had been wearing the night before. She quickly applied a pair of black pasties to cover her nipples, and fastened the open cup harness bra around her body. After a quick once over in the mirror, she rifled through her leather duffel for her Stiizy. After two long drags on a fresh Strawberry Cough cart, she could feel the THC begin to grasp hold of her brain and after a while she knew she'd get that creative boost to push her audition over the edge.

The crowded group of people around the stage were ready for a show. Krista strut her way toward the main stage, stopping behind Hans momentarily to drop her lips down to his ear once she saw the banknotes in his lap. "Are you gonna throw that for me?" Krista purred in English. She let the tips of her fresh acrylics graze across his shoulders and she sauntered up to the stage.

She quickly cleaned the pole with the rag and soap that was beside the stage, and applied a healthy amount of Dry Hands pole grip before at long last approaching the pole. "I want you all to put your hands together for the beautiful Nina!" Red called into a mic as Krista gripped the pole. When she felt her hand give way slightly, she knew that she had been blessed with a spinning pole. Knowing this now, she wished she had stretched before heading out onto the floor. 

Krista hoisted herself up onto the pole and held herself while she spun in a circle as a handful of members in the crowd began to clap as the steaming hot spotlights found their way to her. 

She allowed herself to slowly slide down while still spinning, giving her the opportunity to display her flexibility with a simple side split. When she stood up and faced the crowd, she noticed the whole of the club was silent while the music began to play. She paused, rolling her neck so that her long locks were free to flow behind her back. When she figured out the tune of the song, it was simple for her to decide how she should be dancing. It was slow, kind of calming... Slow Dancing in the Dark by Joji. Not one of her favorite songs to dance to, but this way she was able to focus on her pole work rather than actual dancing.

The calming beats of the music consumed her body unapologetically, and suddenly, it was as if she were dancing for Hans, and Hans alone. She sought him out in the crowd of eager spectators, and focused on him. Her dark, devious plan was to turn him on to the point of explosion because she knew that while at the club, he couldn't have his way with her. 

Reaching up, Krista gripped the cool metal pole with one hand at chest level, and the other as high up as she could possibly place it. Hans was watching her very intently, and she could tell. She had felt that gaze before. Somehow, that was exhilarating to her, and it made her want to push herself to perform better. Holding on with a strong grip, she began to spin around while using the patent leather that covered her ankles to assist her in climbing higher on the pole. With graceful movements, she crossed her ankles tightly to maintain an iron grip on the pole with her inner thighs. She let her body naturally fall into a layback position, her long hair now dragging on the floor. Using her core strength, she pulled herself back up on the pole, and switched positions without touching the stage. 

That was when the shower of money began. The stage was now crowded with people clapping and cheering because Krista was unlike anything they had ever seen. With her dominatrix appearing outfit, the guys were hard in the pants and ready to throw their pay checks to her. 

Krista next gracefully slid from the stage and made her way to Landa. The crowd's eyes followed her every move, curious as to what she could possibly be up to. Slowly and sensually, she moved to straddle his lap and place her hands gently on his shoulders. "Would you like a dance, Colonel?" She asked him in smooth German.

"Yes, of course," he replied to her. His body temperature was rising with every movement of her skilled hips over his painfully hard cock. He needed her. This teasing game of hers was one that she was very skilled at playing. She knew how to push his buttons. How could he have possibly let this woman figure him out so quickly? 

When her hands slid down his chest in tandem with the rhythmic rolling of her body, he was about to burst. When he felt her soft lips on the shell of his ear, his grip on the chair tightened, and his eyes fell closed at the sound of her voice. "You wanna fuck me, don't you?" she asked him with in a hushed tone.

"I'm going to, darling. Don't you worry about that." Money fell from above her as she continued to assault every single one of his senses. Her dancing was such a sweet sin to him; he wanted her to stop so that he could calm down and regain his bearings, but he didn't want her to stop because it was keeping him just on the edge of ecstasy.

When she put a deep arch in her back, naturally, her hips ground down into his and he wanted so badly to squeeze her and pull her impossibly closer to him. 

His heart rate picked up as his breathing did, and he found it very difficult to not moan at the thought of her hands slipping slightly further down and into his pants. 

Krista finally stood back up, an overly pleased smile gleaming on her face when she saw Hans all red in the face and panting. The crowd around them cheered and clapped, clearly entertained by Krista's ways. "Take it! Take it all!" He exclaimed with a last smile, throwing his hands up and allowing her to the cash lying loose in his lap. She dipped down slightly to place her hands on his knees, spreading them apart easily. Krista slid down to her knees between his legs and pressed her breasts together to scoop up the banknotes. She made sure to maintain eye contact as she brushed her hand over the bulge in his pants after standing up to get back on stage for the remainder of Slow Dancing in the Dark.

He would pay her for this now, but she would pay for it later.


End file.
